Renaissance
by Yazlock
Summary: The group are on their way to Washington but a farewell must be given to the girl who was lost at the hospital. Beth. Morgan is looking for a new start and is following Rick's trail, unaware that he will soon find a member of the group believed to be lost forever... Continuing from the mid season final, Beth is back! Team delusional
1. Chapter 1

Two days. That's how far ahead they were. Morgan knew he had a lot of ground to cover, and he'd need a vehicle, but knowing he wasn't far from Rick and his group was a comforting thought in the emptiness around him. The Church was abandoned but he knew too well the signs of life. Clothes with dry blood that hadn't stained yet. Empty cans on the table with almost fresh food remnants inside. A basin filled with water that was fresh. The walkers outside, dead by sharp blows to the head. It was clear as day that there'd been more than one living person here, settled, uprooted by a sudden event that stole them away from this seemingly safe structure. Then there was the map.

A map with Rick's name on it. A map with a message to go to Washington. Though it wasn't a message left for him, Morgan took it as a marker, a set destination where he would find the others. Who knew, maybe he could find them on the way to Washington, if he had the right transport.

Rummaging through a pile of empty cans, Morgan let his mind rest on the last time he had seen Rick. The sheriff who woke up in hell, who gave him a gun, who left him a trail to follow. Rick had been right. You have to be with other people, you have to survive together. Alone, your a threat to yourself. Alone, the greatest danger isn't being overpowered by the dead or outnumbered by a gang of the living. No. The danger was you. Driving yourself crazy, falling into a darkness each and every day.

Morgan knew he would never get his boy back. Nor was he ever going to get his wife back. Maybe, deep down, he knew he might have deserved to be dead too. He'd failed them. Now, it was his punishment to walk alone in this damned world. At least if he found rick, maybe he could start over, and if he died, at least it would be to help others survive.

There came a patter of feet behind him, forcing him to stand swiftly, aiming his hammer at... A dog. A white, one eyed dog who barked at him and sat there, staring. He swore under his breath, smiling for a moment, reflecting on how long it had been since he had seen a dog. Hsi boy always wanted one... No. Morgan took a shuddering breath and pushed back the flood of memories burning in his mind. He wasn't about to let the ghosts of the past cloud what he had to do.

"Sorry doggy, but mans gotta eat."

He tried to call him forward but with every step he took, the dog shrunk back, barking again, running to the door then back. Morgan's brother had a dog, some ugly grey hound with a face that needed fixing, and it used to act like this whenever he was about to come home. It would run out the door and come back, waiting for someone to follow it to it's master. This damn dog was doing same. Running back forth at the open door. Like it wanted to be followed.

"My god..." Morgan muttered realising the dog wasn't just playing about. It wanted to be followed. Maybe this was their dog. Ricks group had kids, and women, surely a dog wouldnt survive unless it's being cared for. Besides this dog was too tame, too domesticated. It belonged to someone and it was sniffing round this church like it knew it well.

"Go on boy. Show me who you looking for."

It barked again and he told himself it was madness to follow some one eyed mutt into the unknown, that he should just kill it and eat enough to give him the strength needed for the long journey to Washington. Why was he letting some animal waste time? The group was moving further away as he lingered.

No. There was somthing about this dog. Somthing that told him He'd be a damned fool to ignore a sign as clear as this. He grabbed his bag and took one last look at the crucifix that had made him laugh earlier that day, before running after the dog, who was heading north, toward the highway road. He pleaded with some unknown entity that the one eyed cra store would take him to Rick. If not, He might be dead before He even start toward Washington.

What was this dog so intent on him finding?

"We should take her to Washington... Have her somewhere nice where we can visit her."

Carl knew it was a difficult situation, and his suggestion wasn't simple, but he looked over to his father, hopeful. Judith bounced on his lap, forcing him to tighten his hold of her, silently relieved he had his sister to comfort him. Beth was gone. Shot dead by a woman called Dawn. Carl couldn't believe he'd never see her again, never hear her sing or laugh as she played with Judith. In the prison, he knew he'd been a lousy brother to her, but Judith had been cared for constantly by Beth. They owed her a proper burial. Somewhere warm and safe, where he could visit with Judith and bring flowers. Beth always said she missed her mama's sunflowers, he'd find as many as he could and being them to her.

His father glanced over. They were driving out of the city, just past the church, on the road to Washington. Who knew what lay ahead, but to Rick Grimes, anything was better than what they'd left behind. He wanted a new life for his family, his kids and his friends. He wanted to believe they could find hope again, a new future, a safe place. A sanctuary. Beth had always believed they'd be safe. Beth had always had hope. Rick feared it was hope that led to her sudden death.

"It's too far, and Maggie... Maggie needs to say goodbye."

His tone was sympathetic but firm. Carl always had a soft spot for Beth but Rick knew that it was best for the group to say goodbye now, before they started toward their new destination. They had to leave what they lost behind. Beth was gone and he was as sad as the rest of them, but he needed to end the raw grief so they could mourn and move on. Daryl was the one he feared most for. A man of few words and little emotion, who had broken apart as he carried Beth out of that hospital.

He'd cried. He'd barely made it to the car without collapsing to his knees. When they lay her not he back seat he'd just stood there, staring at her, head bowed down as he sobbed. Grief struck him hard. While Maggie had wailed and cried out, Daryl just stood and shook. Rick couldn't recall Daryl and Beth ever being close but they'd spent time surviving together, and Daryl had changed for the better. Maybe she had shown him hope, which was burnt to ashes before him when Dawn pulled the trigger.

Rick knew the feeling too well. Maybe Daryl didn't feel the way Rick had about Lori, but when she died, he lost everything. There was nothing left to live for, no one left to care about. He'd been selfish and forgotten the children who needed him but when Lori died, a part of Rick died with her. His humanity torn away, replaced by an anger he couldn't contain.

Judith laughed and broke him from his thoughts, his eyes falling on her pale face and bright blue eyes. Lori would have loved her so much...

"I hope we can come back... Visit her sometime."

Carl's voice was timid, all to aware of his fathers thoughts. Rick smiled and pulled over, nodding as he stared out at the road ahead, then back to his son.

"Maybe one day we will... We'll come back and say goodbye."

A silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of Judith cooing, clutching the rag doll Beth had made her. The doll with a stitched smile. A smile that symbolised better times. Maybe the best of times.

"I can't... I can't do this... She was..."

Maggie was on her knees, every limb shaking uncontrollably, her head hanging low as she spoke to the earth that would soon be home to her sister. Glenn had tried to hold her, tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable, and he decided to watch her from a distance, heart breaking as he saw her break apart before his eyes. Sure he was sad to lose beth, he was devastated to know she was gone, but the girl he loved was not merely mourning, she was defying her senses, refusing to accept the loss. Glenn knew it wasn't a good sign.

Washington was ahead of them, a straight road into the unknown, but he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever lay ahead would only bring more tragedy. Rick passed, giving Glenn a firm squeeze of his shoulder, moving toward the grave sight.

Sasha had chosen a spot near a tree with burning auburn leaves. Tyrese was digging, not too deep, but deep enough to keep Beth safe from any passing walkers. Carol stood watch with Abraham and his companions. Carl just sat up against the tree with Judith, silent. Rick knew too well how hard it would be on them all but it was Daryl he was seeking out. He wasn't in the other car, and when they'd started digging, there was no sign of the body.

"He's over there..." Carol whispered to Rick as he passed, pointing over to the other side of the road, where, amongst the long grass, he could see Daryl's bowed head.

Carol watched Rick move toward Daryl, praying they would hurry up and get it done. They could mourn Beth on the road, it was getting dark and walkers were not far behind.

Daryl didn't even look up at Rick when he approached. He just staid fixated on the girl in his arms, her body still warm, her blonde hair like fire in the setting sunlight. Daryl blamed himself for everything he hadn't done. For not keeping her close, for opening that damn door, for staying in that house hoping it would be alright and they'd find a way to start over. Why did he care so much about Beth? He didn't know. It wasn't just that she was part of the group. She was... Light. Good, pure, hopeful. Beth had a way of seeing everything he tried to hide. Beth had made him open up in a way he'd never done to anyone else. She sung, she laughed, she drank moonshine... Nothing about her was dark. He couldn't save her dad, he couldn't save her... All he could do was stare down at the scars on her cheeks.

He cursed, angry at his own inability to anticipate that she might go for Dawn. Who wouldn't? The woman was her captor, and god knows what shed done to the girl in there. What could they have done to her?

"Your gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone."

The words haunted him. Made him angry and sad and insane. How could he just let it go... Rick sat beside him and he looked up, tense.

"You 'k?"

It was a question Rick knew he may not get an answer to, but Daryl kept his head raised, anger and sorrow burning in his eyes. Rick had never seen Beth and Daryl interact much back at the prison, probably because Beth was always caring for Judith or with her father, but she'd had an effect on Daryl. The way he'd fought to find her, how he had chosen the peaceful option in the deal with Dawn. He'd struggled to get her back, only to see her returned and taken away in seconds.

"My fault she was there. I shoulda' done somethin'... Should have known shed wanna fight back..."

His words echoed everything Rick had ever felt when Lori died. He didn't want Daryl to lose himself the way he had, and Daryl was the only man Rick could trust with anything, and none of what had passed was his fault. Rick's voice was firm when He answered, "None of it's your fault, Daryl. None of it. We were all on edge and what Beth did, none of us could have seen..."

He shook his head, looking down at her, "Nah, thas where your wrong... Beth weren't who she was back at the prison... When we were... She was a fighter..."

Daryl sniffed and looked away, arms tightening their hold of her. That's when Sasha came over and said they were ready. Rick knew Daryl, he wasn't ever going to be ready to let go so he offered to take her, but Daryl shook his head and rose with her, cradling her, his eyes watering as he focused on the grave that lay in wait. It took him a moment to breath, another to shift her, drawing her head close to his chest as he carried her away. Rick stayed. He couldn't see another body buried. Instead, he lingered in the grass, remembering Lori, the way she smiled, the way she laughed. Something about Daryl's grief forced his own emotional trauma back. He was a leader. He had to be strong. It was hard and dangerous, but they needed him.

"I won't lose anymore of them," he muttered under his breath, swearing an oath to the setting sun as he rose, looking over to the grave everyone was staring at. Slowly, they all moved away. Until only Daryl and Maggie lingered. When Glenn pulled her away, her place was taken by Carl, who looked toward the mound of earth with a sad smile, placing Rick's sherif hat down atop it. Daryl shuddered, marching away with an angry cry. Rick left him alone, placing a hand on his sons shoulder.

He smiled, "to the new sherif in town."


	2. Chapter 2

Rebecca was tired. Tired of the dead walking the earth aimlessly in search of victims. Tired of pretending to believe help might still come. Tired of being a doctor who couldn't help anyone because there was no cure for a bite. Medicine should have stopped something like this form happening in the first place. What good was she without a clue as to how she could fix an illness that defied every type of modern medicine? The question didn't let her sleep much. She was tired of waking up shaking from visions of all the people shed failed to save.

Most of all, she was tired of fighting to survive. If it wasn't for her daughter, Jess, maybe she would have joined her partner and slipped a rope around her neck. It would have been quick and easy, maybe even merciful but... No. No, he was selfish. He didn't care that Jess would be in danger. Didn't care that Rebecca needed help. Nope, Mitchel just went to the hall, tied a rope around the railing and let himself hang while she scavenged for supplies. Coming home, she found him swinging to and fro while Jess cried and tried to pull him down, clutching at his shoes. She took a sip of water from her flask, wishing it was something fiery and alcoholic, pushing it back into her satchel. The Forrest was a dangerous place to be in the dying light of day, but Rebecca had heard people. Living people. A cry of grief, car engines, and a baby. The sound of life.

Jess was at home, safe, and the sounds urged Rebecca to find out if anyone needed help. She shouldn't have left. Their house had been broken into by walkers a few weeks ago. How they got in she wanst sure but there was a note saying thanks and some empty jars in the kitchen. Whoever stayed must have run when the dead swarmed inside. Jess had begged her to show her the river, so they took the car and left. They'd gone fishing and caught a few big ones, staying in the old cabin where the Johnsons had once lived, finding some helpful supplies. A first aid box, some alcohol in a flask, a dozen cans of beans and some books for Jess to read. The momentary bliss of the outing ruined when Mr Johnson came banging at the door, undead and hungry. Jess screamed when Rebecca crushed his skull with her shovel, almost having a seizure from the shock. Jess was only twelve, with a heart condition that meant moving from here would be too dangerous. When they had a radio, back when it started and there was still power in these parts, Rebecca had heard an emergency broadcast. Come to Washington. If it hadn't been for Jess and her heart, they'd have left a long time ago.

Stumbling on some undergrowth, she sighed and looked down at her hand. The smallest finger on her left hand was missing. Torn off in a trap some hunter had left in these woods. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about being stared at these days. Living people were scarce and any who were alive we're usually scarred from accidents much worse than hers. Who knew, maybe nine could be a lucky number. That was the number of walkers in the house when they got back. She drew them out to the Forrest, into one of her pit traps, all of them falling in, looking up at her as she set them alight. It took a week for them to fix the house back up but all the treasures they saved were safe in the basement. Jess didn't leave the house much anymore, but Rebecca tried hard to make food stores last, and left her daughter with a gun. These days, children needed to be protected, and sometimes it meant handing over to them the means of ending life.

"That's everyone."

A mans voice echoed through the clering, coming from behind the trees ahead of her. She was close to the road and the sound of engines running and fading away told her they were gone. Damn. Maybe she was a fool to come all this way this close to dark. They left and she couldn't hear the pained cries anymore.

The sun was starting to decend rapidly, but Rebecca's instincts told her she needed to keep going, to see if anyone needed her. People left other people behind all the time. What if the baby was there, what if someone was bit or... Anyhow, she'd take the dead and give them a proper burial. It wasn't right they should join the walking corpses or be feasted on.

Pulling out her radio, she called for her daughter, relieved to hear her timid voice answer, "Mom are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I just need to check something out I'll be back soon. Stay in te basement and call in if you hear anything."

"Mom... I heard a mouse..."

Rebecca smiled, climbing over a log, moss staining her jeans a she hurried out of the Forrest and onto the grass that bordered the road. Sure enough, the outline of a car and a red truck were there, in the distance.

"Be there soon Hun. Just keep dinner ready."

Strapping the talkie to her belt, Rebecca pulled out her shovel, spotting a walker emerging from the trees. Just one. A woman, dressed in a torn poppy print dress, jaw hanging open.

"Rest in peace," she said as the shovel made contact with the dead woman's skull, spraying blood onto the dry grass as she fell. Only when the dead woman was still did Rebecca look around.

Thy hadn't camped here. No sign of anything different... Then, she saw it. A grave. A mound of Fresh soil with a battered sherif hat atop of it. The marker was a poorly fashioned crucifix that... Moved.

Rebecca ran toward it, shovel ready, expecting a walker to rise up but... Nothing. It was risky but she began to dig, glancing around every few seconds, praying the sun could linger a little longer as te world began to burn with the dying light.

Come on, just a bit further. A growl came from behind her. They were coming. Digging deeper, she used her hands to free the body from what earth was left. The grave was shallow and the body was small. A pale arm was first to emerge, Rebecca's finger grasping the wrist. The pulse was feint, almost non existent, but it was there. She pulled hard, freeing the body, a head and bloodied hair appearing. There was a gap around the marker, wide enough for this poor dying girl to breath. The face was muddied and scarred, but a bullet hole through the top of the forehead was clear. Rebecca glanced behind her, the walker close but far enough for her to give the girl a quick study.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

No response. A slight twitch of the fingers. The angle of the shot, the exit wound... It was hard to believe she was still alive, but she was. Brain damage likely. Internal bleeding should have killed her by now so maybe the shot just went clean through without bursting anything. She'd need stitches, pain relief, dined gang... To carry her back would mean risking her own death at the hands of a walking corpse, but Rebecca wasn't about to leave this girl to the rotting corpse that was on it's way.

"God, if you still care, help me!" She hissed, heaving the girl over her shoulder, thankful she was light, running back to the Forrest, panic rising as the Forrest grew darker, shadows lengthening. Anything could be waiting for her. Damn her humanity. Damn her morals. The world was full of bad people, she should be as ruthless and cruel as anyone else would be to her.

Rebecca cursed and kept moving, the silence making her heart ache with anticipation, the distant growl of the walker cut off suddenly. She could feel eyes on her and her mind screamed for her to turn around, but she didn't. Run. All she could do was run. Her radio crackled with interference, her daughters voice calling to her. The Wilkie talkie fell to the floor but she left it, she didn't have time to spare and no walker would be eager to steal it. Rebecca took a shuddering breath and kept going, the feint silouhette of the house appearing through the clearing ahead. Almost home. The bark of a dog in the distance made her smile with relief. Snow was nearby, he would be home soon. That mutt was useless at most things, but having him around made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could have her old life back.

The limp girl shook a little, and it took her a second to fix the position she was carrying her, hurrying up the porch steps, hammering at the door. Jess answered without hesitation and Rebecca wanted to yell at her for not checking, but instead she hurried to the morgue room, lying the girl down, ignoring her daughters questions as she threw her bag to the floor and tore off her jacket, unlocking the medicine cabinet.

"Jess, get water and a towel. Clean her up. We have to be fast!"

...

"Here boy, wait up!"

Morgan cursed as a low branch lashed out and scratched at his cheek, ducking low, squinting into the dark. Damn dog was white as snow but seemed to blend into the shadows. He knew the road was nearby and that Rick was most likely miles away, but this dog was not letting him stray. Everytime he moved in another direction it came running back, pulling his trouser leg with its teeth, jumping about like it was going crazy. It was too late to start up the road to Washington, and to go searching for a car in areas he didn't know, about as stupid an idea as they came. If this dog had an owner, or had a place to stay at least, then it was Morgan's best bet at surviving. Walkers were scattered, he'd taken two down a while ago. None seemed to be about as they reached a patch of Forrest that was almost clear, the trees thinking out till he was standing on grass, a graveyard before him, a house up ahead. The house looked deserted but the dog was running up to the door, scratching, howling like it was calling for someone to let him in.

He crouched low, behind a gravestone, watching. The dog whined and barked again. Best scenario was this may have been a place Rick's group staid in before they left, maybe he could find more clues, some food, a...

The door opened, a small figure dressed in white emerging, petting the dog.

"Snow, come in you silly dog."

Morgan clutched the grave, closing his eyes, memories of his boy burning across his mind. He wiped his eyes, counting to ten, trying to calm himself. The kid was about the same age his boy had been when... No way a kid was here alone. There could be a group of hostile people in there, ready to shoot him dead. He couldn't risk going in blind, but he wasn't the type to break into a house where a kid was.

That's when he saw it. A black rectangular box just a few metres away. He grabbed it, resting against a grave, the feel of it reminding him of how Rick had always tried to reach out to him, before he lost it. Morning broadcasts, always hopeful they'd meet and help eachother survive.

He took a breath, pressing down on the side button, voice wavering as he spoke, "I...I need to talk to whoever is in the house. Hello?"

A minute passed, the moon appearing, accompanied by a dozen stars that shone too bright. To think people wished on those things. He'd give anything to believe prayers and hopes could do anything anymore.

"We have guns. If you try and attack, your dead."

A woman's voice. She was trying to sound strong but there was a fear behind her words. If there was a man there, he'd have spoke. A mother and daughter, maybe. Or sisters. He felt a little of his old humanity return.

"I swear on my life, I'm not here to hurt anyone. Your dog led me here. I'm just looking for my friends, they left earlier today."

Silence. The voice was less defensive when a reply came.

"They went up to Washington, right?"

"Yeah. Man called Rick. They leave anything behind?"

"You could say that. Leave your weapons on the porch and stand away... Please."

He didn't expect such a brisk reply and got up swiftly, taking the gun from his back and the machete from his belt, placing them on the porch, backing up just as the door opened. The woman stared at him, studying him. She was middle aged, most likely younger than him by a good ten years, hair dyed red, her hands covered in soil, her shirt stained with blood. There was a tan to her skin, but her cheeks were smeared with mud. Morgan could see she'd be digging, and shed taken down a walker in the process. The silence was deafening. She took his weapons inside, closing the door.

Shit. He cursed. Had he just been robbed. The sight of another person dumbfounding him...

The door opened, the woman holding out a hand. It took him a moment to realise what he needed to do, shaking it, smiling at her. She didn't return the smile, nervous.

"I'm Morgan. I know your not gonna believe me but I mean no harm to you or your girl."

"I know. You don't look like they do."

He frowned, confused, as she shrugged, "I mean the men who usually look at me like I'm a piece of meat. Plus, what kind of killer asks to be invited in."

He laughed, handing her the Walkie talkie, which made her smile. Letting him in, she hit the kitchen knife in her belt, pulling her shirt down, alarmed when Jess came running into the hall, staring anxiously at Morgan, holding her daddy's revolver. He didn't seem alarmed, smiling.

"You hurt us, I'll... I'll..."

Morgan nodded, "you'll stop me hurting anyone. I know. My son was the same... Tell you what, you have this and give the gun to you mom." He retrieved a boiled sweet from his pocket. Strawberry. She gave him a wary look, taking it slowly. He had to stop himself from lingering on the memory of his son, eyes burning from the repressed tears, looking to Rebecca.

"You said they left something behind."

She nodded, holding up her muddied hands, "actually, they left someone. Follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

The girl on was in a coffin. The big oak one set in the mourning room. Slender and pale, hair spread out like a crown, a few red strands tainting the perfect gold. Skin pale, face scarred, and her clothes were muddied and stained with blood. Jess sat by her side, wiping the dirt away from the sleeping girls hands, carefully avoiding the small cuts and bruises that covered her palms and wrist. If she knew how to play, she might have sat at the piano and played a song for the sleeping girl. Something soft and soothing like her mom played a long time ago. Her mom was talking to the man from outside. They'd come in and looked in on the sleeping girl, then the man asked how she was and her mom had left the room. Jess wasn't stupid. She knew when grown ups were hiding things.

"I'll be back in a second, don't worry," she gave the sleeping girls hand a squeeze as she tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to the gap. Her mom was in. The hallway, close to the door, voice strained, "I have no idea how much damage there is but... But she's alive. It's a miracle. I mean, it's happend before, maybe the shit was angled so it missed most of the brain, maybe it only grazed her skull. The shock of bullet sent her body into a coma and her pulse was weak..."

The man cut her off, "how soon till she wakes?"

Rebecca sighed and Jess frowned. She didn't want the girl to be like the others, preserved and buried in the yard. Daddy and Billy from school and Harry the mailman, they were all buried out there, with lots of other dead people Jess didn't know.

"I have no idea. She's strong, she's made some reactions. Could be a day or a month... Your welcome to stay, if you need..."

"No, no. I need to go and meet with her group. I'll tell them to come back..."

Rebecca spoke up, voice firmer, "I can't risk having another person to feed and look out for. Besides, the girl needs someone here to help her figure out who she is."

Silence. Jess rolled her eyes, frustrated. She hoped maybe the man and girl could stay. He seems nice, he gave her a sweet and was nice to her mom. When the girl woke up, maybe she could see her drawings and read the books her mom had found for her. There were footsteps, and her mom headed toward the door, forcing her to ran back to the coffin, patting the wet cloth to the girls brow. Jess peered down at the girls face, startled when she saw her eyes flutter open for a moment, bright blue like the sky in summer, fixing on her before closing again.

Rebecca peered round the doorway, "bed Jess, come on."

"No, but mom..."

Her mother shook her head, pointing upstairs, "now, Jess. Please."

She bit her lip and obeyed, kissing her moms cheek, giving Morgan a smile as she hurried upstairs, rushing into the bathroom where she washed the mud from her hands. The taps didn't work anymore, but her mom always got water from the river spring. It was in the metal basin, warmed by the heat of the day. Jess washed her face and brushed her teeth, brushing her short brown hair a few times, murmuring a song her mom always sang when she was working.

"My coat of many colors

That my momma made for me

Made only from rags

But I wore it so proudly

Although we had no money

I was rich as I could be..."

Jess smiled, thinking about the girl with the gold hair, knowing shed like that song. It wouldn't be long now till she woke up, she had opened her eyes, she was alive, sleepy and hurt but alive. Someone bad had shot her but she was here, alive. Maybe she was an angel. Jess' grandma used to say angels walk among man and come to those in need. The girl downstairs had come back to life, she'd fix everything. Maybe she could bring her daddy back too, and Mr Johnson, and Billy her best friend, and...

Snow barked and Jess jumped, laughing as the dog sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to slide beneath the covers before he rested his head on her legs, staring at her with his brown eye. Poor Snow needed help. Maybe the girl could help him get a new eye. When that horrible walking corpse grabbed him it cut his face and her mom had to take it out. Poor Snow howled and his fur was all stained with blood, but now he lay here, happy. He'd brought the man here. Maybe he knew that the girl was special.

"It's a secret, Snow, but the sleeping girl is an angel. She is. She's gonna make it all okay. You wait and see."

...

Morgan let Rebecca serve him a plate of beans and dry crackers. He didn't want her to go out of the way for him but she seemed happy to help, and had glared at him when he offered to hunt in exchange for a bed for the night.

"I'm not like the others out there... I help people because it's what good people do, I don't want anything in return."

Regardless, Morgan placed a handful of gum on the table. He'd had a lot of it since he passed that abandoned candy store outside of the city. Gum, boiled sweets and lollipops. Worthless for surviving but helpful when in company. She didn't argue, just sat opposite him, pushing the beans around on her plate with a plastic spoon. Morgan cleaned his plate in seconds, momentarily embarrassed by his over eagerness. Rebecca just smiled and handed over her plate.

"I don't eat when I worry."

He slowed his spoon and glanced up at her, "You don't need to worry, I won't try nothing..."

She shook her head, biting at her nail, "No, the girl... I gave her a drip, some pain meds, but... She doesn't wake up soon then she may be..."

"Vegetable," he murmured, suddenly unable to eat, leaning back into the chair, surveying the kitchen. A cupboard was open, filled with jars and tins. Peanut butter. Tomato sauce. Tinned fruit. Pickle jars. If anyone knew how much these two had... Well, he was glad they had let him in, but trusting strangers these days was a risk he knew wasn't worth taking.

"She may have lost some memory. It's common, but this surviving this kind of wound is uncommon. She could be missing a lot when she wakes up... Poor girl will be so scared," Rebecca looked into the small oval mirror behind him, at her reflection. Alone in the world with a fragmented set of memories. She could relate. When Mitchell was gone, she lost it for a while. Lost who she was, where she was meant to be. Jess forced her back. What did the girl have to hold onto?

"This day keeps getting better," Morgan grimaced as his hand brushed the open cut to his cheek. Rebecca noticed instantly, walking over to the drawer by the sink, retrieving an alcoholic swab and a bandage.

"Sorry if it sounds like a bad soap opera but I'm honestly as clueless as you are... But at least she has you. Whatever you know, it'll help."

He shrugged, wincing as she patted the open wound, pressing lightly down on his cheek as she applied the bandage. That's when he noticed her hand. A small stump rested where a small finger should have gone. For some reason, it made him sad. He pitied her. Alone out here, abandoned with a daughter who needed constant care, living in hope of rescue, never failing to help a person in need regardless of the risk.

"I'm gonna go check on her. Help yourself to tomato juice."

When she left, he made a mental note to find some way of repaying her for her kindness. He was a hard man, hardened by grief and anger and pain, but there was no ignoring the pure goodness of a woman who wanted to save people. Damn, he hadn't even asked for more than a blanket to sleep on, and shed given him the bedroom downstairs, closest to the sleeping girl.

Washing his plate, he carefully poured a glass of juice and downed it swiftly, wondering just how far away Rick was, and how he'd ever get to him. There was no god, he was sure of that, but something meant to keep him here, to keep watch on the girl. Maybe she was important. Maybe she could help him.

Maybe she was a sign.

He sat back at the table, resting his head in his arms, trying to relax his nerves. It was the ash being somewhere safe. He wasn't accustomed to sitting down, enjoying a meal with another living person, without needing to watch for the dead or to keep a gun in one hand in case some scavengers came hunting for your stuff. Maybe he just wasn't used to being human. After all, it was those still alive who truly were the walking dead.

...

Rebecca lingered at the coffin a little too long. The girl was peaceful, the bullet scar stitched closed, almost impossible to notice in the dim candlelight. Her pulse was calm, stable. She knew too well the bullet may have taken out enough brain matter to leave her mentally retarded, maybe even brain dead, but hope was a sentiment she refused to abandon belief in.

There was a crucifix above the coffin. Rebecca smiled. How many stories had her mother told her as a child, of the resurrection. Bible stories she barely believed back then, let alone now. Religion was a comfort few could afford. Everyone knew about the church nearby, how it had been boarded up by the preacher, how he hid inside while his congregation were left to the dead. A woman had told her, a woman lying by the road, bitten, lamenting how little she had done with her life, and how little time she had with her child who had died in her arms. Marlene. That was her name. She was buried outside, beside Mitchell.

"Honey, I'm not in the business of making prayers, but I'm gonna pray for you to come back to us... Your family must be missing you."

The girls fingers twitched and Rebecca let out a relieved laugh, eyes tearing up. If she could, save this girl, maybe there was hope. None of her other rescued patients had made it, but maybe this could be one win for her. A living girl alive because of human kindness and hope.

Injecting the girl with a little more pain relief, Rebecca left her to rest, knowing she would need to watch her overnight.

Entering the kitchen, she smiled as she saw Morgan sound asleep, his plate and spoon washed, aswell as all the other dirty dishes. Most would think she was mad to let in a strange man, to put her and her daughter at risk, but he wasn't one of them. Shed known the moment she saw him. The sadness in her eyes, the scars of past haunted his every step. Mitchell had been the same. When he came home and said his parents were gone, that his sister had been bitten and tried to eat him, the sadness just lingered in his every step. Morgan was stronger. He had pushed past the darkness and moved on. Rebecca knew he would leave with the girl, and she felt sad to lose them already. It was comforting, having a mother adult to talk to, and the thought of being alone... No. She'd give him the spare car. Mitchell had fixed cars up for a living and she had three in the garage. There were five petrol canisters left, but she'd give him two. Maybe if he made it to Washington, they'd find help.

Placing a hand on Morgan's shoulder, she gave him a gentle shake. He stirred instantly, alarmed for a moment, before apologising.

She smiled, shaking her head, "You need sleep, come on, I'll show you the room."

He didn't argue, pushing his chair in, aware of her sudden hesitation as they left the room, going down a step into an unlit narrow room. Rebecca sighed, lighting a candle, watching him anxiously. That's when he noticed what lay beside him in an open coffin. A walker, dead, face preserved and almost human, save for the broken jaw and black lips.

"I don't like to think of them as monsters... Their sick people."

He prayed she wasn't the type to keep these things in the vain hope of finding a cure, so he muttered,"Sick people who will rip you apart."

Rebecca frowned and nodded, brushing back her hair with her fingers, "I know... And if I see one I take them out without hesitation. I just don't like leaving them... Like that. When I can, I bring them back, try and make them look like they were, and bury them out there."

Morgan found the concept strange but he was not about to dismiss her beliefs. Go back a year ago, when his wife was roaming the streets, maybe he would have appreciated a woman like Rebecca coming along to give her a merciful burial. His wife was out there somewhere, rotting, a corpse with a skull split open by the husband who once vowed to love her till death did they part. When he looked up at Rebecca, he saw she was uneasy, seeking some sort of opinion from him.

"Your a good woman, Rebecca."

It was all he could manage but she smiled regardless, waving him toward the door behind her, "this is your room. It was the old laundry room but with the lack of electricity, I kinda turned it into a room for Jess to read."

The candle light revealed a room that was alike to the study he had once had in his first house, back when his wife was pregnant with... He nodded. There were drawings pinned to the cream walls, the wooden floor scattered with books that she began to tidy. A low sofa and an array of cushions lay atop of it, the blanket a soft red that called to him. It had been along time since his body had felt the soft caress of a good bed. When he smiled, she noticed how sad a smile it was. The way he looked at the drawings and the large stuffed bear in the corner... She knew he hadn't just lost a partner or a friend. He lost a child.

"I hope you'll be comfortable, Morgan."

Pulling off his jacket, he sat on the bed, giving her a broad smile, "more comfortable than I've been in months."

When she left, he lay down and expected sleep to overtake him swiftly, but the childish aura of the room kept his eyes focused on the drawings. Crayon lines formed the shapes animals and trees and flowers. The papers pinned close to him showed a woman with red hair labelled 'mommy' and a brown haired girl labelled 'me,' standing beneath a man sitting on a cloud. The name read 'daddy.' His eyes watered. His boy drew pictures like that. Pictures where the grass was green and the sky was blue and the cows were yellow because he'd run out of crayons and he'd have to make do. As he got older, he's stopped being a kid, started worrying more about weapons that his comic books. In the end, before she... Before she got him, he wasn't the boy Morgan had raised. The world didn't let you be a child anymore. Jess was lucky to escape the real world but in time, when they had to move on, she'd be in danger. If Rebecca lost her, would she lose herself the way he had? Could she still believe in hope and humanity if the one light left in her light went out?

That was why he stayed, not because he needed the sleeping girl, but because he wanted to help her. Somewhere in Rick's group, there was someone who had lost her, and maybe they had lost the light that helped keep them fighting. It was his duty to help her. Rick had done so much, now it was Morgan's turn to relight the fire of hope.


	4. Chapter 4

The soft tune of a piano song floated through the house, filling every room, easing away the darkness lurking in every chipped board and splintered door. For a moment, everything was as it should be. The house was warm, safe, a home for lost souls escaping from the shadows outside. Even the candle lights seemed to sway with the song that played from the mourning room. Each piano key bringing light to the shadows, and soon, it was almost impossible to believe the world had ended. Everything felt new and bright.

A soft voice accompanied the tune, singing a song that promised better days and youthful dreams. Morgan rose from his sleep without feeling the need to sit up and watch out for the dead. Instead, his eyes drifted to the doorway, his mind soothed by the music.

He rose, abandoning his shoes and coat, walking out, past the preserved dead man who lay peacefully in his coffin, into the hallway, looking to the mourning room.

A small figure sat at the piano, hair shimmering gold in the warmth if the candle light, voice unlike any he had ever heard,

"...And pine for summer, And we'll buy...beer to shotgun, And we'll lay in the lawn, And we'll be good."

He walked in, glancing toward the coffin, suprises to see Rebecca sitting on a chair close by, Jess beside her, her head resting on her mothers shoulder. They seems so calm and peaceful, he longed to join the momentary bliss the girls voice had cast upon the room, but he had too many questions. Time was against them. He gave Rebecca a nod toward the girl and she blinked, awakening from her reverie, nodding back at him. She knew they couldn't stay like this. She was still trying to tell herself his wasn't a dream, that it was true she had woken up to find the girl sitting at the piano.

Morgan came to the girls side, conflicted over what he should say, though she seemed to notice him as her fingers slipped a key and her eyes darted to him. Momentary alarm subsiding into a softer expression, calm and curious.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake everyone up..."

He smiled, shaking his head, sitting on the closest chair as he addressed her, "no, that's fine. Were just glad your up. I'm Morgan."

Her smile faded, her mind suddenly clouded as she began to try and piece together her memories. Names and faces and feelings floated about in her conscious, but none were clear, all fleeting and faded like fireflies drifting blinking in the dark of night. Fireflies. They stirred up memories. Memories of a barn, of an older brother, of a jar filled with the tiny fire creatures that she watched for a while before insisting he open the lid and let them free. Jimmy. Jimmy was her older brother... And he'd died on the farm. Her families farm. Jimmy, Maggie, her mom. All gone.

Staring at the man beside her, she opened her mouth to speak, frowning, eyes teary as she held a hand to her forehead, "I...I'm...I can't..."

He held out a hand and placed it on her forearm gently, "That's okay, don't worry... How's about you tell me what you can remember and... And I'll help fill in the blanks."

She nodded, suddenly looking determined, her fingers tracing the bullet scar on. her forehead as her eyes widened. Suddenly, the last week was clear as day. The hospital, the officers, that man who tried to... To use her. The doctor who made her kill the injured man. Carol. Some people tried to save her, people whose faces she couldn't remember. Then, something happened. Something...

She touched her scar again, fingers trembling, "I got shot... At the hospital, I got shot by... Someone. They took me, they kidnapped me, I was..."

She looked around, recognising the room. The piano. The chairs. The crucifix on the wall. The coffin. Something in her mind told her that coffin was missing something.

A sad smile crept to her lips, "I was here... With someone. Walkers attacked and I had to run..."

Rebecca stood, eyes wide in awe, voice unsteady, "you left the note..."

The girl turned and nodded, apologising, but Rebecca just shook her head and urged she keep trying to remember. After a long silence, filled with her pained sighs, Morgan decided she needed help.

"How about you tell me about your family."

He regretted that question. Her eyes were teary as she looked at him, suddenly seeming older than she was, "All gone. Maggie, Jimmy, mom...My daddy... Hershel Greene... He was a good man. Never let the world change him... Up till the day a man called the governor cut his head off and destroyed our home."

Jess shivered and Rebecca suddenly felt cold. The governer. Woodbury. The names were mentioned a while back, a community that took people in. Not long ago, she had met a couple on their way to Woodbury, they'd said it was under the governors control. Not long after she'd met them again, corpses lying in the road near the old prison, bullet holes in their broken bodies. If it hadn't been for her mistrust of the promised safe town, she might have taken refuge in its walls. When the group known as the whisperers started frequenting the areas around the house, lurking around the road, she'd been horrified by the thought that they might find them. She still feared that they might find them. If Morgana and the girl left, chances were they would find them on the road... Rebecca shivered and focused back on Morgan, who was giving the girl time to come to terms with her altered mind.

After another minute, he pressed on, "what about a man called Rick Grimes?"

She smiled, a face clearing as she gave a name to the man who seemed present in a lot of her memories. Rick Grimes. An ex cop who came to the farm, he saved them, he lost his wife, he tried to save the prison... She nodded, "Rick and Carl. Dad let them stay on the farm, then it burnt and we went... We went to a prison. Rick...He was like a dad to me. I used to look after Judith when her mom died."

She began to wince, holding her head in her hands, pulling away when he tried to place a hand on her shoulder. There were other people. An Asian boy with a cap, a woman wielding a sword... And a cross bow in the hands of man shrouded in mist... She suppressed tears, shaking her head violently, "I'm missing something... I'm forgetting people... Names..."

Rebecca took hold of her, resting the girls face in her chest, calming her down, promising she'd have answers soon. Rest was needed, and food and water... But Morgan knew the longer they waited, the further Rick would be. He didn't want to be the type of man to use an injured girl for his own gains, but he needed to leave before he lost all hope of finding Rick. Besides, as alone as she may seem, someone in that group must miss her and need her. Her voice alone, singing out in the darkness, had made him rise up and believe in hope, even it was for a second. Someone like her wasn't let go of easy.

Before she fainted, the girl glanced at Morgan and uttered a single sentence.

"My name...it's Dawn."

...

Daryl was sick of him. The preacher who trembled more than a scared kid. He hated how he cowered behind everyone, how he held a machete like it was heavy as stone, how he looked like he might shit his pants if a tree moved. Most of all, he hated what he said. Hell, every god damn hour he'd be trying to console Maggie with biblical advise that Daryl hated to hear. Crap about Beth being somewhere better, that she died a martyr, that she was a saint and she'd be with god.

No, Beth was gone because he'd failed her, he'd let her get taken and then watched as she was shot by the woman who hurt her. They should never have left the damn shack. Why did they burn it down. That night on the porch, when he let himself think about the past and tell her about his old life, he should have told her they'd stay there, together, safe. Beth wanted to burn it down for him, but he should have seen that keeping it standing was safest for her.

He wasn't one to open up about this kind of pain, but he wished he had someone to talk to. Beth had found a way to make him talk, even when he didn't want to. She got him to talk about all the shit he'd faced as a kid, about how much he missed his brother, about how bad he felt failing her dad. The only person who would understand him was Beth, and she was the damn reason he was hurting.

"Daryl, how much further?"

He glanced back at Rick who was carrying Judith. The cars had run out of gas and they were heading north, hoping to find the roadside motel Abraham says was on the map. He couldn't see much ahead but there was something tall and square hidden by trees to the right, a sign most like. He turned back and shrugged.

"Not long."

Rick nodded, "You okay?"

Daryl shrugged again and walked back a little, asking Sasha for the water flask. As she handed it over, he could hear Glenn trying to get through to Maggie, her eyes glazed over ass he walked without a sound, almost as listless as a walker. Daryl didn't blame her for being upset but she wasn't the one who had looked out for Beth, who kept searching for her. Hell, he'd refused to even consider Beth was dead, he found the hospital, he...

"I-I hope you know, she's at peace."

He glared at the preacher, who had made the mistake of addressing him. It took seconds for Daryl to grab him and thrust him against the nearest tree, ignoring the protest of Sasha and Tyrese as he yelled.

"Don't go giving me no damn sermon.."

"I just... I just want to say I understand, your grief, and maybe with The Lord you might find peace..." There was that face again. Daryl hated that face. Face of a coward scared of his own shadow. Why did a yellow livered dog like him deserve to live? Why was he alive and Beth weren't?

He began trying to talk again, so Daryl pushed him, harder, knocking the air out of him. All the anger and guilt and remorse and pain venting from him as he spoke.

"Only person I found peace with is a hundred miles back buried in the ground. You wanna ask your lord somthing? Ask him why he took away the only good person left in this world?!"

Daryl pushed him aside, letting him fall to the floor, unable to hear what the group were trying to say to him. Instead, he walked ahead, anger fueling him to stray from the others, heading toward a clearing where he forced his knife into a tree repeatedly. With each crack of wood he felt a little of his anger burn away.

Damn them, damn the whole lot. Why should he listen to that crazy priest talking about god, or Maggie acting out because she couldn't stand grieving for the sister she'd abandoned. Whole world had gone to shit and now they were just walking away from what they knew to Washington. Abraham was sure somthing was there but why listen to some unstable military dumb ass and his beliefs.

"Fuck them all," he muttered, not meaning it, the anger subsiding into the numb pain he'd felt since the hospital stand off. Why did he care where they went? There was nothing left for him back there. Merle was gone, Beth too. If it weren't for Rick and Glenn, maybe Daryl may have taken off.

"You'll be the last man standing." Beth's words were like a knife in the ribs. For a girl brought up on country songs and wishful thoughts, she was wise. In fact, everything she said was true. She said she'd be gone someday. She said he'd miss her bad when she was gone. Only thing she forgot to say was why it took her dying to make him realise how much of his future he'd seen in her. It was as though he'd based every hope he had on the light that was Beth Greene, and when that light went out, he was drowned in that darkness he'd been born into. Somehow, that day at the house with her was like a window looking in on the kind of life he wanted. Everything just fit together and he was happy, so happy he was willing to try and bargain with whoever lived there so they could stay safe, together. He'd believed that good people may still be out there. For a moment at least.

Now, he was sure every soul out there was infected with the poison that surged through Dawn and her crew of crooked cops. Beth had made him believe better things, somehow she got to him. Why? How? He didn't know himself. Why Beth Greene meant so much to him was a question that would never be answered, and he drove his knife harder into the wood of the tree as he let himself, for a second, remember her face, that night in the kitchen. That moment her eyes were on him and the world fell silent, before the dead broke down the door and forced them apart.

That's when he heard the someone approaching, pulling his sword out from the hacked oak, walking away, more lost than ever before. It was Rick, his expression more concerned than angry.

"Daryl, I get you angry..."

No. No, Daryl couldn't talk to Rick about this. Not yet. He just said "I'm fine," and walked back to the road, heading north. He had to just keep moving. He couldn't look back. Beth was dead and it was his fault, and his punishment was a life without light.

He began humming a tune, smiling sadly as he realised it was the song shed played at the house. He'd told her to play, that he listened to her only because there wasn't a juke box. Truth was, if he had to listen to only one song fir the rest of his, it was her song.

Beth's song.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note: thanks for all the great feedback everyone! I'm determined to get this story out there weekly regardless of my upcoming final exams :S**

**just wanted to say that Beth always has a musical connection and I love that about her so I will use a lot of country songs that I feel channel Beth and her story. In chapter 3 I used Dolly Parton and ofc Be Good by the wonderful Emily Kinney, and in this chapter the song Beth listens to is All my tears by Emmylou Harris, please if you can listen to the song, happy reading!**

...

"You sure that's where they were heading? Washington?"

Morgan looked up from the bowl of oatmeal Rebcca handed him, her question edged with an almost doubtful tone. Jess was still asleep, so the room was silent, save for the odd bubble of the oatmeal in the pan. The girl was still asleep too... Dawn. He had to remember that she had a name now, he couldn't get too used to thinking of her as a dead girl. He'd have to start teaching himself to treat her like a friend if they were going to travel to Washington together. Glancing at Rebecca, he nodded, frowning as she seemed strangely confused.

"Why is that so surprising?" He asked, taking a spoonful of the oatmeal, suppressing the urge to sigh in bliss. This kind of good food wasn't easy to come by, and Rebecca sure as hell knew how to cook. There was a hint of cinnamon lacing every spoonful of the thick, creamy oats. To think as a child he had despised this stuff. He'd taken a lot of beatings from his grandma for refusing to take even a single spoonful of oats. How times had changed.

"Last people I came by on the road... They were heading to Alexandria. Rumour was there was a safe zone there, but Washington... They say Washington belongs to the dead."

This was the first time she was voicing her doubts over his journey, but they weren't strangers anymore. It was his third day here but Rebecca already felt comfortable with him around. When he wasn't fixing the house or reading the old poetry books in the study, he was helping Jess in the vegetable patch or plotting his route on that raggedy map he never parted with. She knew little of who he was before all this. His past and what he had

lost was a mystery still, but she didn't mind. Knowing who he was now was all that mattered. Morgan wasn't a man of many words but he was always thinking. The way he studied everything, the way he looked distant at times. There was always somthing on his mind.

This morning, she'd been greeted by the sight of him wearing one of Mitchell's old jackets, the black one shed told him to have. It was strange to see him wearing what belonged to another man, but it helped her accept that the past was not to be lingered on. She'd already told him to take the rest of the men's clothes stuffed in the trunk in the hall.

Now, she worried for him. This journey wouldn't be easy, and chances were he'd be attacked by the whisperers or the dead before he even reached the border of Washington. He didn't seem to mind her opinion, his eyes falling on the map before him. It was inscribed with a note to Rick Grimes, and it seemed the only evidence that this group were heading there.

"If I find them, and there's no hope in Washington... Maybe we can see what there is in Alexandria."

She sighed. He wasn't going to give in. Deep down, she didn't want him to go anywhere. Why leave when he could stay, they could both stay. Jess was so happy having company, as was Rebecca, but to see her daughter wake with a smile was... It was reason enough for her to live in hope of a better future. If they left... When they left, what would happen to them?

"Mornin'"

They both looked to the doorway, equally suprises to see Dawn, walking without any sign of pain, her hair tied in a loose ponytail beneath the faded sheriff hat, her skin no longer pale and sickly. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, lost in nightmares where the dead chased her through the house, a hand reaching for her in the dark, a mans voice calling for Beth. When she escaped the dead, she fell into a hallway where a woman in a uniform aimed a gun at her head. The mans voice called out again, his fingers just touching her back as the woman fired and the world went black. When she had awoken, everything seemed clearer.

Dawn knew now that her dad and sister were dead. She knew Rick Grimes led the group, she knew Glenn was the Asian boy who Maggie had loved, she knew she saved Carol at the hospital. She could remember everything, save for those few days after the prison fell. She had run away with someone, survived a while, stayed at this house, then been kidnapped. Everyone and everything was clear, but Dawn knew she was forgetting the most important part of it all.

Sighing, she glanced at the map on the table, recognising the name Rick Grimes written on it, taking a seat opposite Morgan. Rebecca was both relieved and mournful. The girl was past the worst of it and she was thankful for that, but now, what excuse did she have to keep them here.

"How you feeling, Dawn?" Rebecca asked, spooning more oats into a new bowl. Dawn sat down, smiling as she saw the map.

"I feel better than ever... And I found this in my pocket..."

She slid her hand into the pocket of her jeans, drawing out a silver spoon, handing it to Morgan. As she began to devour her breakfast, he studied the spoon engraved with a depiction of the white house, the word Washington etched beneath it. It was as sure a sign as any. Dawn didn't remember where she found it , but she was sure it meant she was meant to find them there.

Once she had consumed a second bowl of oatmeal, Dawn looked up with a look of determination, "We need to get going. If my friends are heading to Washington, we got a lot of ground to cover."

Morgan sighed and studied the map, "I'm with you there, only thing is, I need to fix us a route..."

Rebecca walked over, studied the map a second before she spoke, "you could make it to Johnson City in a day, stay clear of Main Street, stick to the outskirts. It's about seven hours to Washington from there by car. If you set of in a few days time..."

Dawn shook her head, "No, we gotta get goin' today. Walkers stick to the forrest at night..."

Morgan nodded, all to aware of how Rebecca tensed at the suggestion, his voice calm as he replied, "I think another days rest. We leave tomorrow at Dawn. Now I have a map, travelling on foot won't be so risky, we can cut through the Forrest here..."

"No. No, you won't have to," Rebecca sighed, pulling open the the cutlery drawer, her hand reaching back till she felt the keys. Retrieving them, she handed him the third key on the ring, continuing, "My partner used to fix up cars. I've got the jeep, but there's an old Buick that's fast enough to get you to the roadside motel in a day."

She pointed to the map, where a purple M represented a motel Morgan hadn't realised existed. They'd be safer sleeping in the car, but if Rick was travelling up the road, it was likely he'd have been there. Maybe he may have left a message. Dawn glanced at the keys.

"What car is it?"

Rebecca smiled, opening the back door, peering out. The back yard was clear, as was the ground around the garage.

"Come and have a look."

...

Morgan was amused when the garage door opened and he looked upon his designated vehicle,"Well if it ain't a 1970 Buick Gran sport. The car of kings"

Rebecca laughed, unlocking the doors of the classic black sports car her partner had worked so hard on. It was good to see someone else take such an interest in it. Morgan set to work studying the wheels and the engine. Dawn circled it, opening the door, smiling when she found a stack of old cassettes in the glovebox. Sifting through the cassettes, she read each artists name aloud,"Dolly Parton. George Jones. Elvis. Kenny Rodgers. Legends of country western."

"Damn, it's gonna be one long drive," Morgan playfully rolled his eyes at her. Dawn stashed them back in the car, moving back a little, keeping hold of one cassette. That's when Rebecca remembered something, moving over to the tool cabinet, pushing away memories of summer days spent laughing with Mitchell as he changed tyres and fixed engines, oil marks on his overalls, his smile... She shook away the ghostly images, remembering the coward he had become, grabbing the small cassette player hiding behind a stack of manuals. It was an old relic from an age long gone. Something her grandmother left her, along with this house. Turning it on, she smiled as the red light shon, glad she wouldn't need to use new batteries.

"Dawn, over here..."

The girl was eager to take hold of the cassete player, sliding the tape in, an old song playing out. Rebecca couldn't help but notice the sad smile on the girls face. Music meant a lot to her. It was almost as though it somehow took her back to better times. A long time ago, music meant a lot to everyone. Then the dead rose and the world fell silent. Everyone was too scared to sing...

"I think we should start packing."

Morgans voice drew them both from the momentary silence. It was sudden, but he knew staying was pointless now. They had to leave soon. He couldn't keep delaying it, regardless of how comfortable they all were. Rebecca headed to the door after him, but Dawn lingered, "Can... Can I stay out here a while?"

Rebecca frowned, she didn't want the girl to suffer alone, but they had a long journey ahead of them. Maybe some time alone would help. She glanced at Morgan who nodded. As the door closed, Dawn moved closer to the window, using her jumper sleeve to wipe away some of the grime obscuring the light of day. Instantly, a dull beam of sunlight began seeping in through the dirty box window, enough for her to see the cassette player. The song was unfamiliar to her, and yet the lyrics felt as though they were talking to her.

"So weep not for me my friend

When my time below does end

For my life belongs to him

Who will raise the dead again...

It don't matter where you bury me

I'll be home and I'll be free

It don't matter where I lay

All my tears be washed away."

It stopped playing and Dawn wiped tears from her eyes. The hardest part about her sadness was that she couldn't understand what made her cry. Her family was dead but shed known it the whole time. Mourning them was something shed done for a long while. There was something else. Before the hospital. She'd been fighting to find someone. Someone who had been with here in the house, who had been in the coffin shed woken up in, who listened to her play that song on the piano. Maybe it was the man in her dream, the voice calling out for Beth. Beth. Something told her maybe it was Beth who she was fighting for. Maybe Beth was the one who had been here, in the house, with her till she was taken away. Maybe the man calling her was Rick... But it wasn't Rick's voice. It was someone else, someone she knew well, someone gruff and strong... She held her head in her hands, wishing the song would stop. Wishing the confusion would fade. The song kept playing, louder now,

"Come and eat from heaven's store,

Come and drink and thirst no more."

The house had been a sort of heavens store. She'd been here before, left a thank you note for all the food they'd had... They... She cursed aloud. Who had been with her?! Who was she forgetting?!

"I was here with... God, what am I forgetting!" She cried out. Whoever was here left her feeling empty. Without their face in her thoughts, a piece of her was gone. She took hold of the hat on her head, clutching it, the last piece of her past she had to hold onto. If only she had her diary. Maybe Rebecca could give her a new one, she could write down everything then figure out what was missing. Maybe she could have a knife again, so she would feel like her old, stronger self. That's when she rose up, determined. It didn't matter what was missing. Whoever or whatever she had been fighting for was in Washington. That's where she would find the answers. She smiled, "after all, I am the new sheriff in town."

...

The sun barely escaped from the heavy clouds that filled the sky that afternoon. Daryl wasn't keen on them setting up camp so close to the road, but Judith needed feeding and Carol wasn't doing too well. He hadn't asked her much since she was back, but from the bruises on her neck and the bandages on her wrist, he could tell she was slow to heal. Tyrese didn't leave her side. Hell, he carried her most of the way. She protested, of course, but he wouldn't hear it. Daryl watched them with a sick stomach. Seeing how he held her, how he was careful with her, reminded him of Beth and he couldn't stand it. He was up front, alone, trying to wipe the remnants of Beth's blood from his hands, till Rick announced they needed to stop. Daryl didn't want to stop.

Stopping meant he'd have time to think of something other than where they were headed. He couldn't stand the pain of looking back. Motel was further than they thought and Rick was sure it wouldn't be free of life. Most likely they'd run into people, and he wasn't about to do that while everyone was still tired. Maggie wasn't any better either. He pitied Glenn. Everything he did to try and get her back was just useless. When they set down the blankets and started a fire, she just sat with her knees to her chin, shaking, ignoring Glenn's words, shrinking away from his touch. Carl held his sister, Sasha helped get her food ready, and all Daryl could do was stand watch and wish he'd have done a hundred things differently at the hospital.

"It's my fault, not yours."

The voice was full of remorse, so much so that Daryl had to look over to see who was talking, unfamiliar with that kind of pain. It was Noah, limping over sitting a little away from him. Daryl hadn't had much of an opinion of the kid but he respected him for trying to save Beth back there, offering to take her place.

"You was brave kid. You did all you could... I just didn't do enough."

Daryl would have given anything for some moonshine right now. Or not. How could he ever drink again without seeing Beth sitting across from him, pushing him to play her drinking game, or wincing ass he tried to down a glass of the fiery stuff. It had been hard enough missing his brother back at that cabin, he'd got over it with her help, but now... Now he had a new reason to grieve. Noah didn't even look at him when he answered.

"When we tried to escape, when I ran to the gate... I should have run back and fought. Should have let her get free and find you all..."

"We'd have ended up there anyway, kid. She weren't the type to give up on anyone." Daryl thought about how she always believed the rest of the group were alive. She never gave up on them. She never gave up on him. Only soul in the world to ever stand her ground and force him to admit to everything that hurt him.

"In a world like this, maybe she was too good to have to live through the shit we do..." Noah winced, shifting his leg. Daryl watched him. He was Beth's age, alone, in with a group he barely knew searching for family he may never find. There were parts of her and parts of Daryl in him. Go back a month ago he would just ignore the kid and scare him of, but Beth was right about one thing. There are good people. Noah was one of them.

"Here, use this," Daryl pulled out a reel of bandages from his bag. Something from the house he'd scavenged with Beth. Noah smiled weakly, thanking him, wrapping the bandages around his ankle, a deep scar barely visible in the firelight.

Scars. Daryl stared at his hands. Beth was scarred when he held her. Two on her face, stitched and clean but scars none the less. He had his scars. He had scars on the inside. The marks left by people who left him. Who died. His mom, Merle, Beth. Why was it that anyone who ever meant anything to him never stayed with?

Tyrese came over before Daryl could linger on the painful question, his expression nervous as he spoke, "Daryl, Rick said get yourself ready."

He frowned, "why? We goin' somewhere?"

Tyrese nodded, loading his gun, "to the motel. Rick said safest option is we catch them off guard in the dark."

Daryl stood and grabbed his cross bow, uncomfortable with how dark a plan it was. Could be anyone in that motel. Families, women, innocent people. Coming at them like this could be risky, on both sides.

"Cops at hospital said there's a gang in these parts, murderers, cannibals. I doubt you'll be attacking anyone who isn't dangerous," Noah spoke with his eyes to sky but Daryl knew the words were meant for him. Taking a final glance at Noah, he walked over to Rick.

"Let's do this."


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you have to go?"

Jess cried as the question burst from her. Dawn was beside her, holding her hand, smiling at her as tears trickled down the younger girls rosy cheeks. Jess was so child like, so unaware of how dark a world lay outside her door. She had to say goodbye inside because her chest had that horrible tube in it. Her mom was monitoring her heart, after last nights dizzy spell. Jess had felt so scared, so weak, till Dawn came rushing in, holding her as her mom got the medicine. To her, Dawn was an angel. Dawn was the only friend she had, the only one who could sit with her and play. When she left, Jess would be alone and her mom would leave again to get supplies and she'd be alone...

"I'll be back. I promise. When I find my friends, I'll come back and find you."

Dawn meant it. She'd spent all night thinking of how unsafe it was for Rebecca to stay out here by herself. They'd saved, her fed her, cared for her. Twice, she reminded herself. Twice this house had kept her safe. She owed them everything and leaving them here, at the mercy of anyone who happened upon them, was a poor way to repay them. No, she'd ask Rick to help her. To bring them to Washington... If they ever found anywhere in Washington that was safe.

Morgan was starting the car outside, so Dawn gave Jess another hug. Their fourth that day. Brushing the girls hair down, Dawn looked at her, smiling through tears, "hey, can you take this for me. As long as you have it, I'll be able to find you."

Dawn placed the Washington spoon in the girls hand, her small fingers tightening around it, her lips curled into a small smile, "I'll see you soon."

For a girl so young, she was brave, and that made Dawn smile. Jess pointed to the end of her bed, asking Dawn to take her rainbow coloured woollen scarf, "So you will remember me too."

Morgan came to the doorway, rubbing his hands on his jacket. He nodded at her, giving Jess a smile and a wave. Dawn was wearing the tan jacket he'd worn when he got here, with thick lined boots Rebecca had given her. As she rose, she wrapped the scarf Jess had given her around her neck, the soft smell of jasmine making her sigh. This house would be easy to leave behind.

Outside, Rebecca was loading a bag of food into the backseat, refusing to heed Morgan's objections, wiping her eyes as she looked over at Dawn.

"I am going to miss you, miracle girl," she smiled, embracing her tightly, silently praying Dawn would be safe. She prayed for both of them. How was she going to go back to surviving alone, to not having anyone...

"Thank you. For everything."

Dawn's words made her sigh, tucking the girls hair behind her ears, pressing her lips to her cheek. This was hard but Rebecca knew the girl deserved to find her friends. To send hope to people out there who missed her, who were struggling without her. Dawn climbed into the car as Morgan approached Rebecca, his face strangely sad. He was always so firm, so confident and determined. Her eyes watered a little.

"When we find everyone, when we find somewhere safe... I'll come back. We can help you. I swear."

Smiling, she pulled him into an embrace, arms tightly wound around him, "thank you, Morgan."

Pulling away, she smiled, watching them start their journey, ending their stay. The car drove away and with every second, she felt more and more alone. It was hard to watch the car disappear but Rebecca sighed and wiped her eyes. It was time to move on. To go on with how things had always been... How things might always be.

Alone again.

...

Motel Clementine. Parking available. No Vacany. The sign was clear as day when they were a few metres away from the place. Clouds above began to grow darker, a bad omen maybe, but these days bad things happen whether there is an omen or forest cleared around the strange place. It was easy to miss from the road, cast into darkness by the surrounding trees and the absence of sun light. The sign stood, straight and untouched, save for the vines crawling up the pole. The neon tube lights that outlines the motel name were grimy and without the electricity needed to illuminate. Daryl knew places like this too well. Often, Merle would take him on the road, stopping at places like this to get drugs or a box of unknown goods to sell on. He was glad this place was deserted.

There was a cheap wire fence up around it, broken at the middle, most likely by a car judging by the width of the gap and the bent metal poles on the floor. Motel itself was dark, wooden panels so dark they seemed almost black, the doors to each room painted a dull orange with rusted numbers. All the windows were grimy, too filthy to let you see inside. A few were broken, red stains on the jagged edges of the glass that lingered in the frame. It was only a two storey building, low and wide. That was about all there was to say about the motel.

As they got closer, Daryl studied the building carefully. Bottom level had a row of eight windows, as did the top. Low roof, crooked drain pipes, an american flag flying in the breeze, representing a dead stairs were stained red, a trail of blood leading up from the bottom level, remains of a corpse or two lingering on the top step. The Tarmac leading up to the motel was filled with signs of death. Books, a stuffed rabbit, some abandoned suitcases lay open by the lobby, clothes scattered by the wind, strewn everywhere. Rick moved to the side and they all glanced through the fence, seeing five walkers roaming aimlessly, not as starved as most in the woods. There was a body, a few feet away, not fresh but not fully decomposed, lying host to a thousand flies. Explained how they were so well fed. The walkers prowled around it, groaning. One was a girl, about eighteen, with no arms, blond hair covering her sunken face. She was shorter than the rest, thinner, stumbling as she tripped on a mound of moulded clothes. Why Daryl noticed her over the others he couldn't tell, but he didn't like letting his eyes linger on her small form. There was something familiar in her figure, in her hair, and it made him feel uneasy for a moment. Just a moment.

Rick was the first to voice what the others were thinking, "can't be anyone inside or they'd have been trying to break in through the windows."

Glenn edged out a little, peering at the alley between the motel and the small maintanence cabin. He could see a car park beyond the gap. The afternoon was edging into early evening and the clouds were obstructing the suns light, but Glenn could make out a few shapes.

"There's a cabin or some kind of truck back there. I can see movement, walkers most likely... We have to get a closer look."

Daryl studied the road, crouching down by the feint tyre marks left behind, "Whatever kinda vehicle that's back there crashed through this fence. Not long ago either."

Rick came over, crouching beside him, resting against his rifle, "you saying these are fresh tracks?"

Daryl studied them closely. Marks were long. Someone made a point of backing up and accelerating hard to break in. Fence was weak, broke easy, maybe dented the hood. Tyre marks were wide. No ordinary car. No truck either, the alley was too narrow. He glanced up at Rick, "my guess is that whoever drove in here did it in past five days, maybe. Driving something big."

Rick loaded his gun, "only one way to find out. Take down the walkers quietly, could be a trap."

They crept toward the broken fence, ready to rush forward, but Rick placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder and lowered his voice, "Leave the blonde one to me."

Daryl nodded, relieved to know he wasn't the only one to notice the resemblance the thing had to... No. No, he was lucky Rick was there to know how to help him without needing to ask. He stopped thinking and headed out, raising his cross bow, bring it down on the zombie who was half crouched down, it's growl silenced with a sickening crack of bone and the thud of its body as it struck the floor. Blood sprayed onto his arm, warm and thick. He brought his boot down on its head, making sure it wasn't getting up anytime soon.

"Glenn, watch it."

Tyrese's call made Daryl glance over at the Asian boy, his knife stuck in the head of a walker, another coming up behind him. It took a second to load an arrow up and the thing was dead before Glenn could even look over.

"Thanks," he breathed, pulling the arrow from its eye socket, handing it back to Daryl. Glenn looked tired, stressed. Maggie's condition scared him and Daryl could see just how much he was suffering. Tyrese came with Rick, wiping his axe on his leg, glancing at the alley, "I hear them over there, sounds like something got them excited."

Daryl nodded, "no point walkin' into 'em. Best choice is we see what were up against."

"This way," Rick led, running over to the motel, running up the stairs, dodging a rotting carcass, holding his breath. Glenn gagged but followed close behind. Daryl let his eyes stray to the carcass. It was barely recognisable as human, ribs coated with rotten flesh, the skull fractured. They tried the first door. Locked. The window into the room was broken and Glenn moved to go in, jumping back as he saw a row of bodies tied in stained bed sheets, moving. One of the make shift body bags was small. So small Daryl didn't want to think of how young a child was inside.

"Keep going," Daryl warned Glenn, pushing him onward, ignoring the mummified dead's groans as Rick broke into the next room. It was empty, a few clothes scattered across the floor. A pair of men's shoes. A couple of shirts. The bathroom had three bottles of pills open on the floor. Aspirin. Some cigarettes. A cassette labelled 'Birdy.' Daryl picked them up and stowed them away in his jacket pocket, joining Rick at the window. The car park was a few square meters, no cars in sight, just a bulky RV with it's bumper open, the engine steaming. The dead were surrounding it. Twenty of them. Hammering at the windows. Daryl knew it wasn't your ordinary RV. The windows were blackened out and strong, the tyres heavy duty, and it was painted grey. Someone had customised it for the threats of this new world. Rick mirrored his thoughts, "Someone's gotta be inside. You don't leave that kinda vehicle behind"

"How we gonna help them?" Glenn asked, grabbing a box of matches from the bed table. Daryl shrugged rummaging through the large cabinet near the door, smiling as he found an unopened bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. Rick rubbed his forehead, pensive.

"Waste of ammo if we try killing them, and the sound might bring more of them to camp."

Daryl knew what he was considering. Leave the guy to it. He was a good distraction and they didn't have the numbers or the resources to take on a hoard. Made sense to leave.. There was Beth's voice in his head again. There's still good people. Damn. He started to think when Tyrese called from the doorway, asking what was to be done next.

That's when Daryl noticed the stack of wood hiding in the shadows by the back of the parking lot. Looked like scrap. Wooden planks and pieces of a shed, even a log or two about as tall as he was. If they got the walkers close, they could burn it and take them out easily. Only problem was getting there without them noticing. He'd just have to risk it. Risk it for a stranger in the hope he wasn't some asshole like everyone else they'd met along the way... Beth would have told him to do it. To try. He wasn't doing this for himself. He was doing it for her.

"We can burn 'em. Let me get to that wood there, I'll climb the fence and call 'em over. Soon as they get close... we burn it."

Rick frowned, studying the parking lot sceptically, "that kinda light might draw every walker round here to us."

Glenn shook his head, handing Daryl the matches and the whiskey, "not with those trees around us. Plus, if any do come, at least they will be behind the fence and away from camp."

Rick thought a moment, looking to Daryl, awaiting his final assent. He nodded and Rick turned to Tyrese, "go back to camp, keep them safe. You too Glenn."

They left, vanishing into the shadows of the trees, leaving Rick and Daryl at the alley entrance. Rick planned on running with Daryl but he refused.

"No point us both getting stuck over there. Moment I start calling them you get into that RV."

Rick nodded, gun in hand. Daryl took a Deep breath.

The walkers cries drowned out as he focused on his heartbeat.

Three. Two. One.

He ran, fast, not even looking at the walkers as he crossed the parking lot, cross bow weighing him down. He heard a few groans from ahead, a walker without any legs emerging from the wood. It didn't cause him much trouble, his knife slicing in and out of its head within seconds. He wanted to look back but he resisted, reaching the fence, studying the wood. Wasn't wet, bone dry in fact. Winter was only just setting in and a this area hadn't been hit by much rain. He drenched the largest panel of wood with whiskey, knowing too well he would have enjoyed it's fiery ability to erase the pain he was in. Guilt never existed when whiskey was involved.

"Help me!"

The voice was unfamiliar. Daryl turned to see a man standing of the RV roof, waving his hands at Daryl. He was stocky, with dark skin and ragged clothing. He wasn't close enough to see properly but Daryl noticed how his clothes were torn. Like he'd been attacked. He swore hoping he hadn't been bit. Rick was emerging from the alley, looking to Daryl.

"Get back inside you idiot!" Daryl yelled, striking the fence with his knife. The metallic clanking bringing the walkers to turn around, a few lingering at the RV, most stumbling over. He opened the matches, cursing as they didn't seem to light. Eight matches in with seconds till the walkers were on him, Daryl managed to get one lit, tossing it at the wood, jumping back as the flame burst into life, devouring every scrap of wood to be found. A walker lunged for him but Daryl jumped back, heading to the fence.

"Come on, come and get it you dumb dead bastards!"

Most were already on fire, dropping to the floor. He climbed up the fence, swearing as a flame lashed out at him, burning his arm, the pain numbing as he fell to the other side. There was no time to treat the wound so he ignored it, rushing to his feet, grimacing as a walker came to the fence, on fire, face melting as it hissed at him. As skin started to burn away, Daryl saw he was just a kid, bit older than Carl, wearing one of those nerdy t shirts with some tv show on it, some stained converse on his feet. Ordinary teenager, probably on holiday with his parents. Daryl stood closer to it, watching as it's eyeballs burned down to nothing, it's body black and charred as it dropped. The smell made him stand back, grimacing.

He didn't enjoy killing them anymore. Go back to when he was with Merle, killing one of these damn things was an honour, a game, a way to show you were a man. Maybe he'd just gone soft, but Daryl didn't enjoy watching them die. He killed them because he had to. Not because he wanted to. Beth was right, when they found those walker bodies someone had been fixing up to bury. He wouldn't call it beautiful, but it was something good in a way. Seeing them for who they were. When he killed Merle, he'd have given anything to see someone fix him up and bury him as a man, not as a monster.

That's when the rain started, pouring down from the dark clouds above. First rain they'd had in a long time. In a week there'd be snow, closer they got to Washington. Beth would have liked snow... Beth would have liked to have lived.

"Daryl!"

Rick's voice brought him back to where he was, running to the fence, climbing over, ignoring the blaze as he hurried over to the RV. Rick had the guy pinned against it, searching him. When he approached the man stared at him with a relieved smile.

"Nice work, thanks so..."

He was cut off by a sharp jab in the ribs by Rick, "Enough. Now tell me again, who the hell are you?"

Freeing himself from Rick, he stood before them, rubbing his ribs, "Douglas Monroe. I'm sorta the scout for ASZ."

Daryl frowned, confused. The guy looked battered and bruised, a deep scar on his cheek, but he spoke confidently, almost like he was some news broadcaster. Rick frowned. "What?"

He sighed, holding up his hands, "I came out here looking for my friend, he was staying here looking for survivors. Were from the Alexandria Safe Zone."

...

The car rattled for the first few miles, so Morgan took it slow, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, thankful for the scarcity of walkers. He was sure the car was sturdy enough to withstand hitting one, but he didn't want to risk damaging their onyl hope of reaching Washington in time. They had enough gas in the back, enough food rations, and a map. A part of him was nervous, ready for something to go wrong. An attack by scavengers, a walker hoard, maybe an earthquake. It was impossible for him to believe they could make it there this easily. An hour into driving down the straight road and he allowed himself to relax, glancing over at the girl. Dawn was writing in her journal, balancing it on her knee, the map open on her lap. She'd kept it open and in full view for him, and he felt slightly guilty over how awkwardly she was sitting just to accommodate him. Clearing his throat, he spoke, "We got a good few hours straight on, you can put the map away."

"You sure?" She waited till he nodded before folding it carefully, sliding it into the bag by her feet. Moving her pen back to the journal, she finished her final line. So far shed documented all the happenings from the moment she woke up. She wrote about Jess and Rebecca, about the music she'd found, about how she was forgetting someone and it was killing her slowly to know someone important was missing. Part of the reason why she was writing was because deep down she was so afraid her memory might just leave her completely at any moment, and forgetting was worse than death.

Closing her journal, she began sifting through cassettes. He didn't want to openly state how much he disliked country songs, but he told himself to lighten up. His wife always liked playing that sort of cowboy music when they went on a road trip. Dwayne was too young to complain, more fixated on that grey rabbit his grandma got him for christmas. They drove all night, laughed at old stories, played I spy for the kid, and then, when it was almost time to reach home, she'd always tell him she could keep on driving forever if she had him by her side. That was how they'd met. Senior year. She was his friend Harley's sister. They spoke a few times. Then he asked her out the day he got his drivers got a pick up from his dad. Beat up piece of crap with a dent in the hood and a wheel cap missing. There she was, dressed in a blue dress with white flowers, eyes brighter than the stars, watching her sister play in the park. He pulled up, asked her out for dinner, and she just laughed and nodded. Shy and beautiful and always smiling. Always.

Jenny. It had been a long time since he let himself think of her. Her name was painful to remember, impossible to say except for in his nightmares. Jenny.

"How'd you meet Rick?"

The question broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to where he was, and where Jenny was not. Dawn watched him, knowing too well he was letting his mind linger in sad moments from his past. She didn't know him well enough to pry into his story, but at least her question involved a person they both knew well.

"I was the first living person he met when he woke up from his coma. Took care of his wounds, fed him, told him how the world had gone to shit. He got us guns, promised to radio every morning so I'd know where to find him..."

Dawn smiled, that was the Rick she remembered. All night shed tossed and turned, the absences of those few memories making her feel conflicted, suffocating in the dense fog of confusion. She tried to remember the way every person in her group acted. Rick was strong, a leader, devoted to his kids, always fighting for them all. Morgan had clarified what she knew to be true and that made her feel a momentary flood of relief.

"So, before..."

He shook his head, shifting uncomfortably, "how about we put in one of those cassettes."

"I just wanted to ask, I mean, I know you had a fam..."

"Not now, girl."

Dawn knew it was a push to even mention the past, so she sighed, not really caring what she pushed into the stereo. When the music began to play, she turned it up loud enough to drown the awkward silence between them. Leaning out the window, she pressed her cheek against the door, wind blowing through her hair, her scar feeling strange as the breeze kissed it.

Mad world the tape had said. A song her brother listened to a few times, she never liked it. It was too sad. The song was dark. Maybe once upon a time it wasn't but as she watched the world around her, the dead roaming the grass beside the road, abandoned cars with bloodied windows... Sitting back, she let the lyrics sink in.

'Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow.'

If she didn't find her group, didn't remember everything and find everyone, maybe there would be no reason for a tomorrow. Why fight when the dead have won? She was always full of hope, always believing there were others out there, but her family was dead. The only real future she had was tied to whoever she had forgotten. Where were they? How were they? Maybe they were gone too. Maybe everyone was gone.

Maybe all that was left was a mad world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note: thanks so much for all your amazing reviews and feedback, it honestly gives me so much joy and so I decided to publish this chapter very swiftly just for you! My wonderful readers! The song in this chapter is Safe and sound by Taylor Swift :)**

Douglas Monroe was a man with principles.

He was a husband. Not a very good one, but he had a wife, Regina, and a child, Spencer, who needed him. It didn't matter that he had never stayed loyal Regina since his son was born. Nor did it matter that Spencer was almost a man and acted like a spoiled little shit half the time. Damn, he deserved a good few months without his dad having to protect him from the scrutiny of his peers. He had a duty to them, to come home, to be there. However, that was private family business. This, out here, finding people to save, this was his real mission.

Saving people. That's why Alexandria was so safe and free. There was no dictatorship or secret goings on. They were a community that worked to save who they could. He was a leader, and as a leader, he was expected to be strong. Regardless of how dire a situation seemed. Hell, he'd been a congressman for Ohio back before the dead decided to start walking and devouring the living. At least in this world he was fighting to unite everyone instead of fighting some damn political war between people from the same state. One perk of the apocalypse, politics was the first thing to die. Politics and most of the population.

As he watched the guy called Rick and his red neck partner search the RV, he was relieved to see that maybe he'd found some survivors who could actually help back in Alexandria. Tough guys to fight, but who weren't the type to go off stealing and raping the women by night. Rick mentioned a family to the other guy, a son. A family meant more people, women and children maybe. If he could bring them back, hed have saved enough lives to feel like he'd made a difference. It would be a sweet relief after all those failed attempts to save people out here.

Last trip to Atlanta, a group of his guys were shot down by rouge police officers. Time before that, Old Scott took his boy to find survivors at terminus and never came back. Since then Terminus stopped transmitting a radio message and were declared terminated. It was all bad news lately. He wasn't sure he could even trust these guys, but hell he was gonna try and reason with them. If they had families, they deserved a chance of sanctuary.

Meanwhile, Rick was searching for weapons, finding nothing in the RV. Having Douglas watching him from the low sofa at the back of the extended vehicle was even more unnerving. He was too calm, too sure that they would be willing to talk with him. Rick wasn't even sure whether to believe in this Alexandria safe zone. Daryl, however, was willing to believe it. He'd noticed the map pinned over the desk behind the drivers seat. Alexandria had a red box over it labelled ASZ, and there was a radio beneath it that seemed to be in working order.

"Radio works fine, but they've cut off my signal. Won't find it again unless I send up a flare."

Douglas spoke when he saw Daryl studying the radio. Rick looked over, confused and wary, "Cut you off?"

Douglas nodded, calmly explaining, "When someone goes missing for longer than three days, they switch off the radio signal, in case someone hostile tries to use it to find them. Usually, you send up a flare and they will radio back, but I'm a little far from the nearest checkpoint."

Daryl could tell he wasn't lying. How he was dressed, how he spoke, the way the RV was so well stocked; he had come from somewhere safe. If Rick was willing to make a deal, Daryl was eager to get everyone in this house on wheels. There were four beds down the centre, a table and kitchen, a bathroom, two couches and a whole four cans of fuel to power it. It was like a Winnebago, something Merle knew a lot about, spending most summer nights with his friends getting high on the road in one of these. Not Daryl's kind of fun. Daryl was younger then, stuck at home at his dad's mercy. Still, he knew about these kinda things. The engine was out but he was sure he could fix it. Dale would have known how to fix it. Daryl was surprised by how sad it was that he'd never thought of Dale since that night on the barn, when he pulled the trigger for Rick. The old man was good, kind, fussy about his tools. Daryl didn't know much more than that. He didn't want Beth to be forgotten so easily. Maybe it would be a lot easier if he could just forget her, remember her a few years from now when he heard someone singing or saw a bottle of moonshine. Yeah, it would be easier, but he knew it wouldn't be right. Beth wasn't just a dead girl, she was the girl. The girl who changed him, who showed him what it meant to have hope for a future. He didn't know why, but Beth left a mark on him that would never fade and he knew it ran deeper than he cared to think.

"How'd you end up out here?" Rick asked Douglas, sitting across from the unarmed man, awakening Daryl from his thoughts, forcing him back to a reality without Beth.

"I was looking for one of our guys. Stuart. He came out here trying to find survivors and didn't radio in for a few days. His last transmission came from this motel, but my guess is he went up to Johnson City. When I got here, I saw some cars racing up the road so I broke into this damn parking lot and got surrounded. The impact of the fence damaged the engine and I didn't have the power needed for the radio to work so I've been stranded."

Daryl frowned, recognising the city Douglas mentioned, "why would he head to Johnson city? Ain't nothing much there."

"Firework warehouse. When we don't radio in, we have to send a flare. My guess is he was heading to the city to send up some fireworks and get our attention."

Rick knew what the man would be asking next. Honestly, he didn't want to trust anyone. After the hospital, he knew no one could be trusted. He couldn't live with himself if trusting this stranger led to Carl dying the way Beth did. This so called safe zone could just be another terminus, or worse, a trap. They could be shot on sight. There was too much relying on this mans word. He was glad to have Daryl by his side. Of Abraham or Glenn were here, they'd have insisted they trust him and go running off to the safe zone. Daryl was as sceptical as him and his word would help Rick make a decision. When he glanced over at him, Daryl raised an eyebrow, looking to Douglas, "Who runs this safe zone?"

Douglas sighed and smiled a little, "if you can believe it, me."

Daryl was sure it was true, and judging by this guys lack of guns and basic survival skills, it was clear he was used to being somewhere safe. He didn't hesitate when he spoke, he was honest, and the picture of a woman and boy up by the map told Daryl he was a family man. It wasn't anything to mean they should trust him, but it was enough proof of the safe zones existence to make Daryl give Rick a nod of the head.

Rick stood before the man, leaning down so they were eye to eye, his voice deadly serious, "We have others. More of us. If we help you get to Johnson..."

Douglas didn't let him finish, waving round to the RV, "this is all for you. I'm here to save people, bring them back. Winter is coming, we always try and save as many as we can before the snow blocks us off. Come with me to Johnson, I'll send a flare and a convoy will come and take us home."

Daryl glanced at Rick, who nodded in agreement. Looks like they had a detour to make. Next stop, Johnson City.

...

Morgan was all to aware of how soon night would fall upon them. Rebecca said the motel wasn't far but it was clear she had failed to realise how long a journey it was. He planned on cutting through Johnson City as soon as a turning for it appeared but the dying light and his need for rest forced him to consider the need to set up camp. They could just sleep in the car but he didn't want to waste the fuel needed keeping it running. Also, they needed food and most of it needed to be cooked. A fire might be the sort of warmth he needed to shake of the cloudy weariness that fogged his mind. Dawn was asleep already, clutching her journal, softly breathing as she lay to her side. He heard her mutter names as she slept. Sometimes it was her own name, sometimes it was Beth, and once he swore he heard her mutter Dixon. Morgan left her in the car as he pulled up and got out, stretching his legs, glancing around the spot he head chosen. It was the widest stretch of grass by the road, with enough space between the trees and their camp for him to see any walkers that might come lurching out. For a moment, he stood there, shivering in the winter chill, looking at the sky. The sky was a murky canvas adorned with stars, some falling, others formed in constellations he had long forgotten the names of. Since the cities went dark, the sky seemed more beautiful than ever. Every star brighter than it had been before. Another fell and he dared himself to wish upon it. To wish for his son back. To wish for Jenny to come running over laughing and dancing the way she had on their wedding day. No. Instead, he looked away and reached into the car, grabbing the supply bag.

"Where are we?"

Dawn sounded drowsy as she leaned out of the window, watching him sort through the tins of food. He didn't even glance up as he answered, "still a long way from where we should be."

She knew he was still being distant but she didn't care. Trying to understand Morgan was not gonna be easy and she still felt too tired to stand up. Then, a thud from the boot of the car made her spin round in alarm, looking back at Morgan who was also aware of the sound. Grabbing his knife, he went to the back of the car, followed by Beth. Carefully, she reached out, lifting the boot... To find a single brown eye gazing at her. She laughed while Morgan swore.

"Hey Snow, good dog," she reached out, ruffling the fur behind his ears. He seemed all too eager to receive some attention, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail wagging. Dawn laughed as he licked her face, resting his paws on her shoulders. Then, with a heavy heart, she thought of Jess, suddenly aware of how distraught the girl must the hell did he even sneak into the boot in the first place? Morgan spoke before she could voice her concern.

"Damn dog, can't go back now. Hell He'll just have to some with us."

Dawn's eyes widened in alarm, "No! No we gotta take him back, Jess will be heartbroken!"

Her voice was raised and she glanced around, aware of how unwise it was to get hysterical in such a risky situation but she couldn't stand thinking of a sick girl pining for her pet. Besides, where they were heading could be dangerous. Snow had a habit of running off and following strangers, she wouldn't forgive herself if he got bit or worse, got consumed by a walker hoard. Morgan shot her a warning look but she ignored it. She wouldn't back down.

"If we go back now, even if it's just half way, he could make his own way home..."

Morgan quickly cut her off, raising a finger to his lips, "Keep it down, girl. Now he's gonna stay with us and if we ever make it to Washington and find Rick, then we can all go back and get Jess and Rebecca... Right now, we go forward."

She opened her mouth to argue but at that moment, Snow cocked his head, raising a n ear to the wind, jumping down from the boot of the car, evading Dawns arms as he ran. She called him, pushing Morgan away as he tried to pull her back, panicking as she saw Snow running down the road to Washington, a white blur disappearing into the darkness ahead. Why was he going that way? What had he heard? Why didn't he go home? She moved to run after him but Morgan grabbed her arm, pulling her back, cursing as she elbowed him in the ribs, but his hand kept a firm grip of her forearm.

"Let the damn mutt go, Dawn!"

She glared at him, eyes fiery as she fought against his grip, "he's not just some animal you can abandon, he's a companion to Jess, I can't just..."

He cut her off, letting out a cruel laugh, "these days aren't meant for pets. You wanna cuddle something, take that bag of food and get in the car."

Anger rose in her. An anger she felt before. She recognised how frustrated he made her, how she'd argues with someone like this before. He was afraid, he was angry and bitter and grieving, but she wasn't about to let him walk all over her because he couldn't handle humanity. She pulled her harm from him, standing her ground, resilient as ever.

"What is with you?! All you care about is where were going, you won't let anyone in, you can't let yourself enjoy the now. I saw you staring at the stars, mumbling a wish under your breath! You let yourself think it's okay to be a jerk to me because I don't know what it means to feel lost and alone but guess what... I get it! My family is dead, I was dead... Everyone thinks I'm dead and I may never remember who I'm fighting so hard to see, but I keep living."

He was speechless, knowing she was right, his anger subsiding a little. She wasn't the only one who thought of Jess, who considered chasing the damn dog. He'd been cruel and she had finally admitted to understanding him better than he knew. Dawn was right, she was alone as well, a lost child without a family. He felt ashamed but instead of apologising he just shrugged, "maybe I don't like treating life like some dumb ass game. Maybe I wanna survive this."

She smiled weakly, giving up on arguing, suddenly aware of how defeated he looked, "maybe I'm just not afraid to live... I wanna live, not just survive."

With that Dawn strolled away, opening the food bag, getting a tin of peaches and a spoon, sitting across from the unlit fire. He wanted to leave but it seemed pointless now. No walkers in sight for miles, no dog to chase anymore, and no reason to worry about being tired and needing rest. The argument left him awake and uncomfortable. He lit a fire, glancing over at Dawn, knowing he'd been to harsh on her. As she sat there, barely managing to eat her peach segment, he thought of Duane, the way he acted when he'd been bullied at school. He'd come home, hiding his bruises, sitting all silent, unable to touch his food. Morgan never did any good. Jenny was the smart one. He was the one to give his boy some ice cream and tell him it would all work out. Seeing Dawn like this made him feel guilty. Guilty for bullying her and being too less a man to admit she was right.

He couldn't think of a way to break the deafening silence, watching her, seeing her shiver. Without a word, he passed her his jacket from the car, hearing her low humming as he handed it to her.

"What song is that? The one you keep hummin."

She looked up, seemingly alarmed, biting her lip as he gave her his most genuine smile.

"It's... It's kinda stupid..." She began but he sat back and begged she continue, opening a can of peas. Sighing, she put her can down, arms hugging her knees.

"A month before everything went to hell, my brother, Jimmy... He took me to a concert. His girlfriend's family had a farm a few miles from us and her dad was hosting the Georgia Country Festival. They had pony rides and coconut shack for the kids, but we went to hear Taylor sing. She was this new country singer... Sorry, I guess it's a longer story than you expected."

Morgan smiled, "It's good hearing about what it was like to enjoy life... Keep going."

"If your sure... So we went to the barn and she was there, on a hay bale, singing like an angel. Everyone was singing along and the stars were out and the air smelt like straw and honey. Afterwards, Jimmy got me a toffee apple and we walked home... I couldn't stop singing all the way back. Maggie was so jealous. She'd been stuck at home helping Daddy with the horses. Next day, someone dropped a cd in the mail box, with a song from the concert and I'm sure Taylor dropped it by."

He watched her eyes raise to his, unsure, as if worried she revealing some deep secret. After a second, she continued, "There was this song from the concert I just... I never forgot. It was a song Taylor said she had been writing but didn't wanna release because it was something's private, something that helped her get through hard times..."

Morgan saw how deeply she was thinking, how lost she was in the world she had once loved. For a second she was young again, untouched by death and sorrow and walking corpses. The world they had both lost. He was starting to understand why this girl was always singing. It was her way of reliving her past and remembering the good. She was in pain and he didn't want to see her cry again, so instead, he spoke, "How about you sing some... For me."

Dawn glanced up at him, sighing, brushing her hair back with a weak smile, "And you said you hate country music."

He let out a laugh, sitting back against the car as she began to sing, staring up at the stars again.

" I remember tears streaming down your face

When I said, "I'll never let you go"

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight"

Dawn stared up at the sky, watching the stars, remembering Jimmy, Maggie, her parents, Judith, Rick, Carl, Glenn... Everyone who ever meant anything to her. A warmth emanated from inside her, despite the cold night breeze. Hope. She felt hope. As long as she sang and remembered how many good people had loved her and been there for her, she could fight to find her friends. They were her family, after all. Morgan was family now. She had a lot to be grateful for and she smiled as she sang the next part of the song.

"Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You'll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I'll be safe and sound"

Memories of warm summer days and her family hit her like an arrow to the heart. She felt empty, a piece of her missing as she tried to hold onto the hope that was failing to stay alive.

"Don't you dare look out your window, darling,

Everything's on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Hold on to this lullaby

Even when music's gone..."

The last word hit a support inside of her and everything just broke down, her body trembling as she cried, holding her head in her hands. Gone. Everyone was gone. Her dad, her mom, Jimmy, Maggie, Judith... There was only one person she cared about enough to fight for and she couldn't even remember their face. She hated herself for being weak but the song was like a piece of her past that always comforted her till now. Now it was a song for the dead and all the light they carried away with them.

Morgan knew there was little he could say to console her, but he took a boiled sweet from his pocket, yellow as her hair, and handed it to her. To his relief she laughed and glanced at him, eyes shining with tears, "You must have been a great dad."

He laughed, nodding slowly, "oh yes. Left my boys troubles to my wife, but when he needed sweets, I was an all hour candy store."

Dawn smiled, enjoying the sweet lemon flavour of the sweet, giving him a thumbs up before jumping, startled when something warm and wet touched her neck. Morgan laughed heartily. She didn't mind as she saw Snow by her side, licking her face, resting his head on her lap as he got comfortable.

"See, all good things come back to you in the end," Morgan said with a sigh, looking up at the sky again, thinking of his family, but, for the first time in months, he didn't mourn them. He remembered them. Dawn knew what was on his mind and let herself do the same, trying to pull away the fragmented memories, trying to see what she had unseen. Who had she forgotten? Who was missing? It hurt to try and remember, and she was so happy for a moment, that instead of dwelling on what was lost, she was thankful for what she had found. Dawn had finally found a friend in Morgan.


	8. Chapter 8

"I heard a wolf last night."

Morgan smiled at Dawn's observation. They were heading up the road, the sun barely up as they sped through the thickest area of the Forrest, windows open, cool morning breeze easing away their lingering dreariness. Somehow, when he'd woken up, he'd been smiling. When he glanced over at Dawn, she was sleeping the same way, small lips curved in a secret smile. For him, good food and better company, maybe even a the sweet sound of the girls song, had left him feeling hopeful. Hope had long been a stranger to him and to wake up with it warming his chest was a welcome feeling to the usual cold pain cutting through his heart. He glanced over at her, her bright blue eyes shining as she watched the road ahead.

"My wife, Jenny, she used to say maybe the wolf was in love with the moon, and each month it cries for a love it will never touch."

It wasn't the first time he'd mentioned his wife, but Dawn appreciated how open he was about his family since their argument. He even smiled when he said her name, instead of making that pained expression when she mentioned family. She smiled at his story, liking how romantic a theory it was. A lone wolf pining for a love he could never have. Always too far away from her, always watching. She didn't remember ever having that sort of love got anyone. At least not with a boy. At the farm, and at the prison, there'd been boys. Boyfriends she had spent time with, kissed, liked. Never loved. Not because it was likely they would live long enough to love, who had been the case, but because they were just silly boys who liked having fun and ignoring what was beyond the safety of their sanctuary. Dawn wasn't always strong, she'd been weak in the past, weaker than she ever liked to remember, but she was never in denial. The world was different and she wanted to change so it wouldn't claim her like it did those boys. If she ever let herself love someone, it would be a man who knew this dark new world and who understood her. Who got that she was strong and free, she wasn't some girl who could be pushed around. She'd seen enough of men and power at the hospital and she wasn't ever letting that happen again.

No. She'd be the wolf, calling for the moon. There couldn't ever be anyone out there for her because to love would be to find confinement and in confinement, she couldn't be strong. Not like she was out here, on the road, amongst friends and those who needed her for help. The old Dawn wouldn't have been able to strike down a woman with a gun, she couldn't have defied death and forced Morgan to accept his past. The old Dawn was just a girl who wanted a quick escape when the sunshine faded and the music stopped. Dawn was so much more now. She was strong, she was hopeful, she was determined to find her friends and come back for Rebecca and Jess. No one could call her weak. No one could tell her she was too young or too much of a stupid girl to survive.

No one could ever think of her as just some dead girl.

"Damn it."

Morgans curse forced her eyes up to the road again, her heart racing as she saw a car ahead. Two cars. Abandoned. Beside the cars on the grass were two tents. One was torn, blood staining the faded blue material. She frowned, watching the walkers striking the car, a few looking up as they approached. The sun wasn't bright enough to help her see into the window, but she could make out something bulky inside.

"Must be some poor bastard in there," Morgan said, driving past quickly, Dawn's eyes widening in horror as she stared at him. Was he gonna leave them to die... No. He pulled up, grabbing his knife, the machete, her own hand gripping her knife. Looking in the door mirror, she saw three were stumbling over one slower than the rest, it's leg broken neck twisted in a wierd angle.

"Someone's put up a fight," she murmured as she studied the battered walker. Morgan took a quick breath, watching the abandoned car. It was an SUV, new save for the dents and scratches caused by the dead. A single walker remained, hammering at the door, intent on breaching the vehicle. Morgan strained to see any other walkers, surveying the surrounding Forrest. Then, without a word, he opened the door and ran at the first walker. Dawn followed, sprinting, jumping at the other, knife sliding straight through its open mouth, blood spraying her jacket. She let it fall to the ground before retrieving the knife, avoiding the black teeth in its rotten jaws, wiping her blood on the grass as remnants of tongue stuck to the blade. The smell made her gag but she moved on, running to the SUV as Morgan dealt with the battered walker.

"Damn it," she hissed when she saw the car was empty, the bulky figure nothing but bags of belongings. The walker closest to the car turned at the sound of her voice, it's face partially deteriorated, the absence of its bottom jaw making her grimace, knife cutting straight between its eyes, jumping back as it almost fell on top of her.

"Dawn! You ok?!" Morgan called, pulling his machete from the walker he'd been struggling with, it's skull seeming reluctant to release his blade. She nodded, peering into the car, wiping away some of the blood that had coated the glass. Nothing inside but bags filled with tins and blankets, a teddy bear, a toy train. Dawn swallowed the painful ache inside of her chest as she realised a child must have been in this car. Morgan came to her side, a hand on her shoulder, "can't save everyone."

She nodded. The fact wasn't new to her but she had a hard time accepting it. If only they'd been a little sooner, maybe the kid could have come with them... No. No she had to toughen up and get over it, move on...

"Jesus, there's a boy in there," Morgan said in disbelief, a child emerging from beneath the drivers wheel, his eyes staring at them, fear etched in his face. He was tiny, skinny, five years old barely. Dawn momentarily mistook him for a skeleton. Crawling to the back seat, he watched them, as if waiting for them to start attacking the car. There was a bravery in his gaze, a curiosity. Dawn smiled at him, suddenly realising how afraid he must me. She placed a hand on the window.

"Sweetheart, my names Dawn, I'm here to help."

"I want daddy! He went to the woods!" He yelled, crying as he stared at the trees beyond the car, bottom lip trembling as he repeated his fathers name. Morgan glanced up, the silence broken by distant walker groans. It was risky running blind to find someone who may have already joined the dead, but he saw his son in that boy and he wasn't about to let some kid be orphaned without trying to save his father. Glancing at Dawn, she read his expression. Stay here and help the kid. As he ran, she begged him to be careful, which was useless advise but it was comforting to hear.

Turning back to the car, Dawn spoke calmly, "my friends gonna find your dad... What's your name?"

He eyed her nervously, pulling up the lock on the door, opening it slowly, extending a bony hand which she took swiftly, "I-I'm Ben. Ben M-Mason."

As he stepped out of the car, she withheld a gasp. The kid was more bone than anything else. He was unsteady on his feet, legs so thin they might break in two. The cans she had seen in the car were empty, his sunken face telling her food had been scarce. Taking his hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, "you hungry? You want an oatmeal bar?"

He nodded eagerly, running alongside her as she rushed over to their car, pulling out an oatmeal bar from her rucksack, grabbing another as the boy began to devour the first at an inhuman speed. His legs were like twigs, his skin sickly pale. She dreaded to think how weak his father must be. The dead would likely have overpowered him... No. She stayed hopeful for Ben, urging him to sit in the car, keeping an eye out for walkers.

"My Daddy's been gone a real long time," he mumbled between mouthfuls, tears in his pale blue eyes, oatmeal crumbs covering his shirt. Dawn bit her lip, the boys grief painful to observe, her hands softly brushing away the crumbs, crouching down so she could see him eye to eye.

"Hey, you know, the thing about daddy's is... No matter how scary it is out there, they always come back looking for you. Always."

It cheered the boy up but Dawn was forced to relive memories of her father and his murder. His old, soft face smiling at her as the blade struck his neck, his empty eyes staring at her and Maggie as the blood rained out from the wound...

"Daddy!"

The boys scream broke her from the nightmare, his body flying past her as the son was reunited with his father. Morgan followed, tired but smiling as he watched the boy jump into his fathers arms. The father was thin and shaking as he shed tears of joy, holding his son, a hand on Morgans arm as he repeated his thanks. Dawn ran over, coming to Morgans side, "you okay?"

He nodded, breathing hard. The father turned to her, beaming, "thank you, for taking care of Ben. I had to get the dead away from camp..."

Morgan sighed. Hell the guy hadn't just lured the walkers away, he had taken a few down on the way using nothing but a tree branch, then got stranded up in a tree as a group of five dead ones clawed at his feet. He'd been up there a day. Morgan had taken them down, helping the guy back to the ground, awkwardly easing him off as the sobbing father embraced him. Dawn took hold of Morgans arm, watching the reunion, tears in her eyes as something inside of her bled with raw emotion. Something about the reunion, the grief and relief. It was almost as though she were gazing upon something that was stolen from her. Something's shed missed out on.

Then suddenly, she was in that house. Rebecca's house. Walkers clawing to enter, a figure holding back the door, yelling at her, telling her to run.

"I'm not leaving you!" She'd called, desperate not to leave, scared she'd lose her companion, running only when they had insisted. There was no reunion after that... She never had a chance to talk to that person again, to feel that person close to her... Her grip of Morgan tightened as the memory faded and she was left feeling hollow, unaware of the fact that the father had been speaking.

"We were heading for Terminus but the damn radio transmission ended a good while ago and we set up camp, hoping they'd come back..."

Morgan informed him of the destruction of Terminus, the mans face altering, changing from an expression of hope to grief. He held a hand to his forehead, pained. Dawn felt for him, recovering from her shock, walking towards Ben, "how about you come with me, I'll pack you some food."

He glanced up at his dad who nodded. Morgan spoke up, "I've got a spare can of gas, it'll get you to where you need to go."

The father sighed, "not even sure where that is anymore."

That's when Dawn looked at Morgan, both sharing the same thought. Rebecca. Taking Ben, she left Morgan to explain, getting a spare trash bag form the car door, filling it with tinned fruit and sardine tins, winking at Ben as she packed him half of her oatmeal bars. He smiled, at her front teeth missing, his curly brown hair making him look like a goofy kid who had a chance at making it. If he stayed with Jess, he could keep her company, they would be happy, and she'd see them again. As soon as she found the group and came back.

"Your so pretty."

Ben said the words shyly and she laughed, squeezing his cheek, wishing there was more fat to take hold off. He gave her a wink and she resisted the urge to take hold of him and never let go.

Noticing Morgan approaching, she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Tell you what, next time I see you, we go on a date. I'll make you dinner."

He nodded so violently his curls bounced about till he was a rusty coloured blur and she stopped him in case her passed out. As they heaved the food bag to Bens fathers car, Morgan lingered beside the father, eager to be sure he was the right type of man. He wasn't about to let some stranger stay with Rebecca and Jess unless he was sure they'd be safe. Luckily for him, the father, who introduced himself as Kyle, was eager to explain everything.

"We came down from Johnson City a month ago. My wife was ill you see... Cancer... Without medication, she couldn't make it much longer so she told us to go. I wouldn't, she knew I wouldn't so next day I found her in the garden, trimming back the weeds, waiting for me to come get her... She cut her wrist, died in my arms. I had to leave before the dead smelt her and I couldn't let Ben... Anyways, I was heading to terminus. Neighbours of ours had headed out that way, seemed to make sense we follow. Lost out here a month with barely any food, I was scared he'd starve. My boy. I ain't much of a hunger, hard as I try," Kyle took a breath, leaning over, inhaling air. He was frail, thin, barely a match for a walker, let alone Rebecca should he prove difficult. Not that he would. Morgan could read him like an open book. He wasn't a violent kind of guy. He'd been working in an office, lived in a nice house, never seen a crime in his life before the dead came back. The way he held the bat Morgan had handed him back in the Forrest, it was obvious killing wasn't his strong point.

Morgan didn't have much choice. If he didn't send these two to Rebecca, the kid would die and he'd have that over his head for life. He was just getting used to moving past the family he'd lost, he couldn't feel new guilt for another family lost because of him.

Reaching into the back seat, he took one of the two gas tanks Rebecca and given him, "This will get you there. Way back there, a days drive, keep going till you hit a cross road. Turn left and look out for an abandoned van. You'll find a clearing and your there."

Kyle smiled, nodding, silent a moment before he spoke, "My wife said she'd send someone to help me on the road... You two... You are my miracles."

...

Maggie vomited into the toilet, groaning as her throat burnt, her stomach turning with every bump in the road. The moment Rick and Daryl had come back with the damn monster truck sized RV, she'd felt sick. Not because she got motion sick or because they were trusting some strange guy and his supposed sanctuary. No, Maggie felt sick because the closer they got to Washington, the further away she was from her sister. Beth. She hurled again, bile dripping from her lips as she let her mind linger on the past. No one understood who she felt. A sister... A sister isn't like a brother or a spouse or a kid... A sister is everything in one. Beth was her baby sister, her child to raise when she was a teen, her friend to share secrets with as they got older, and her greatest companions in the dark days they faced. They saw their dad beheaded, then Maggie was sure everyone was gone till she found Glenn... Why didn't she look for Beth?! Why had she been so scared to hope she was alive?!

Her stomach ached, a pain so violent she cried out, wishing the RV didn't sway so much. Beth would have begged they go slower, would have been here, helping her. Always helping everyone else. That was Beth. Sweet Beth. Kind beth who never changed, who never adapted to the dark world outside the farm.

Beth wasn't meant for this world. Beth had always been weaker. The one to get bullied in school, the one who couldn't say no to dad or argue with Jimmy when he was wrong. Maggie always knew deep down that if Beth was taken, likelihood was she wouldn't fight her captors and they'd kill her for fun. That's what people did these days. Hurt good people for fun. The governor, Terminus, the hospital police... Using the weak and the good for their own sick amusement. That's why she hadn't gone looking for Beth, because she couldn't see another grave. She'd lost everyone, knowing Beth was gone too was like tearing away everything from her.

Daryl said Beth was strong. He'd saved her, taken her with him, helped her survive. Maggie knew he was the only reason she had even made it out of the prison. Put anyone with him and they'd make it. Then he said a car took her and Maggie had a horrible feeling that Beth was likely dead, abused and shot by some maniac on the road... But she'd been wrong. Her sister was alive, fighting, surviving in that hospital. Noah spoke a lot about it with Glenn and she heard enough to know her sister was out through hell before that bullet ended it all. They'd been so close... If only she'd been there been there to grab Beth and drag her out and...

Maggie threw up again, heaving, keeping a foot against the door as Glenn tried to come in. He was begging her to come out, asking if she was okay. He loved her so much, but she didn't deserve it. She knew she deserved nothing. It was her fault he was in pain, it was her fault Beth was dead... All she could do to overcome the grief was close her eye and pretend she was dead. Another tap on the door made her groan, "what?!"

Carol answered, voice firm, "I'm comin' in Maggie."

To her own surprise, she moved her foot and let the older woman in, unaware of how awful she looked. Carol wet some tissue, wiping the tears and spit and vomit residue from Maggie's face, recognising her grief. Years ago Carol was here, on the floor of a bathroom, crying and vomiting, hiding from an abusive husband and a world of pain and misery. She wasn't about to watch Maggie unravel the same way she had.

"Listen to me Maggie Greene. You have three things in your life that are worth more than self pity. You have Glenn, god knows we could all use a man that good by our side. You have a group who would die to save you... And you have a baby who needs a mom whose strong and deserving of motherhood."

Maggie knew too well that Carol was right. The vomiting had been constant for a week or two now, and it was clear her stomach was feeling strange, bloated and in pain. She knew the truth but it hurt to accept it. She cried, trying to talk, shaking as the older woman held her.

"My... My sister... My Beth..."

Carol held her tighter, running a hand through her hair, "Beth isn't here anymore.. But Glenn is, and me, and your baby. Live for your child, Maggie."

As she sobbed, the RV swayed, driving past a sign.

Johnson City.

...

Watching Kyle and Ben drive away, Dawn was almost sad to return to the car, half wishing she could go with them, back to the house, back to where she'd found life again. Ben waved from the window and she blew him a kiss, praying he'd be okay, that they'd make it. If only they had radios, she could be sure everyone was okay, but all she had was the comfort of knowing they and food and gas and clear directions. They'd tried to urge Snow to go with them, but the stubborn creature wouldn't rise from it's place in the boot. Ben was afraid of dogs, so much so that Dawn was relieved when they decided not to take Snow. Climbing back into the car, she noticed Morgan holding something in his hand. A square piece of paper she'd never seen before. All to aware of her curiosity, he handed it to her carefully, as if afraid it might break apart in his hands.

It was a photo. Creased and aged but the faces as clear as the sky above her. Morgan, young and smiling and tall, with his arm around a woman, a beautiful woman with ebony skin and a perfect smile. Standing in front of them with a cheeky smile was a boy, a boy with Morgan's eyes and his mothers smile, the happy aura of the image burning at her fingertips as she felt the weight of holding such a treasured piece of history. Her lips curved into a smile as she looked over at him, surprised and pleased to see he too was smiling.

"My family. Lost but not forgotten."

She handed the photo back to him, nodding, taking a deep breath, "exactly. Lost... But not forgotten."

Somehow, in some way, she knew that out there, somewhere, someone was thinking about her the same way Morgan did his family. That was what gave her hope. So much hope that when Morgan started the car, she let her window down and draped her arms over the door, watching the Forrest fly by. She studied the colours of the leaves, felt the cold touch of the rain, observed a lonely walker... Staring back at her body turning as they passed it... A gun in its arms.

She shook her head. No. No, just her damaged mind playing tricks on her. The image haunted her for a while, lingering in her conscious as she fell asleep to the soft lull of the car engine and the soft rustling of the trees.


	9. Chapter 9

Some places carry a feeling. Daryl couldn't explain it any other way. It was just a fact of life that you would know if you paid attention. Back at the hospital, the moment you saw it you knew it was a bad place, a structure built on lies and false promises of safety. Same could be said about Terminus. Moment they walked in there was a feeling of something dark lurking behind the false smiles of everyone there. Johnson City was no different, no matter what Douglas tried to say about it being abandoned and forgotten.

Soon as they had left the RV on the outskirts and started on foot to the town centre, Daryl knew this place had a strong feeling and it wasn't a good one. He'd suggested leaving Michonne and Glenn behind to watch Carl, Judith and Maggie. Sasha and Tyrese insisted on coming, as did Carol but Rick had asked her to stay, for his kids. Rick was sure as hell worried they were walking into a trap, but this time around, they were armed better than ever. Douglas had pleaded that he be given a gun but all he got was a glare from Rick and a kitchen knife. If he was right about his friend being held up here in the firework warehouse, and this Stuart guy could vouch for the existence of a safe zone in Alexandria, then maybe Rick might start being a little less wary of him. Till then, he kept a firm hold of his rifle and had Douglas walk ahead, urging everyone to keep their guns loaded and ready. Daryl kept a firm hold of his crossbow but he had a shotgun strapped to his back in case. No telling how bad a feeling he had about this place but it was bad enough to know guns might be involved.

Douglas walked on as Rick instructed, looking ahead, holding the radio. They were heading down main street, past abandoned homes and empty cars, taking down the few walkers lingering in the shadows. Night fell fast and the cold began to set in. Daryl hated winter. Things got harder and survival became less about skill and more about luck. Hunting was harder, traveling on foot became a struggle, and if you had kids or weak ones with you the cold could claim them easily. In that way, he was glad they had the RV. It was warm, safe, and everyone managed to fit inside. He'd spent the ride from the motel up front beside Douglas. Their lack of acquaintance giving him the chance to enjoy some silence. Silence was something he'd grown up taking comfort in, but lately... No, lately it just made him relive things he should be moving on from. He'd hear that gun shot that had echoed through the hospital hallway, see her lying there... His mind would wander back, back to that house he'd carried Beth to, back to that kitchen where she'd looked into him and seemed as confused as he was by the sudden change between them. The memory would fade at that point and reconstruct itself into the moment Dawn had sent a bullet through Beth's head. The moment he knelt down and held her, carrying her down those stairs into the sunlight, praying to the sky that she could awaken when the light struck her face. He thought about her when he saw the sign for the town.

He'd never been outside of Georgia. Only person who'd known that was Beth Greene. If she'd been here, he knew she'd have made a joke of it, given him one of those small smiles and gone back to playing with Judith... This place wasn't somewhere he'd want to have taken her. Something bad was waiting in the dark. They were being watched and it drove him crazy not knowing where from. All the houses either side of them were empty, dark, listless. Their footsteps were the only sound to be heard. Even the wind seemed to fall silent, holding it's breath, waiting for what would come next.

"Up there, past that liquor store," Douglas pointed to where the residential street ended at a junction, the moon casting a dim light on the road ahead. There a store with smashed windows and broken crates outside. Empty bottles lay in the gutter. It would be the liquor store that got looted first, Daryl noted. To the right was a long row of shops, all scavenged from, stripped clear long ago. Most didn't even have windows anymore. To the left, Daryl saw a warehouse, a sign out front baring a logo he knew well. JC Fireworks. Only fireworks he'd ever laid his hands on. Every Fourth of July he'd go with Merle and steal some from the local firework show. They held it in a park in the area owned by rich bastards and their fat kids. No one dared even chase after them when they went running. Merle was tall and threatening even back then, when they were young and stupid. They'd take them to the river, far enough so their Mom wouldn't hear them, then light them up and stand back.

Gun powder and fire. That's all they were. Yet Daryl couldn't help but miss the days when they were magic. When there was some mysterious monstrous power in those rockets that burst free the moment a match touched the fuse. Beth would have... No, no he stopped himself and focused his cross bow on the cars abandoned around them, watching for the dead.

"Front door is locked tight but there's a hatch in the roof not many know about. I can..." Douglas stopped talking as Rick shot a warning glance at him, turning to Sasha and Tyrese.

"Wait by the door, I'll head up..."

Daryl walked over, shaking his head, placing a hand on Rick's shoulder, "you'll be too slow. I can get up there easy. Wait up here."

Rick agreed, warning him to be careful. Daryl let out a gruff laugh and nodded, hurrying over to the ladder he'd spotted in the shadows. It took him half way up, his feet finding a ledge which let him breath a second. He glanced down. If he fell he'd be looking at two broken legs. It didn't scare him, he didn't even mind when he had to climb from ledge to ledge to get up higher. When you learn to face your fears young, they can't control you when your older. Only thing that scared young Daryl Dixon was his dad and losing their home. Funny enough, both those things weren't a problem anymore, but fear wasn't the hardest emotion to handle. Not for Daryl. Grief was his fatal flaw. Holding onto the pain of losing people, never letting it out, never telling anyone what he felt like inside. Losing his mom, his brother, Beth. Just when he was starting to get over someone, another person died and he was left with the hurt and the anger but no one to turn to. Maybe he was cursed, and anyone who ever got to really know him didn't ever get to live long because fate wasn't keen on a man like him being happy. Life was a bitch.

"Come on you bitch," he murmured to himself, straining as he used his arms to pull his body up to the roof ledge, hands aching from his grip of the sharp edged metal. He let his back hit the roof, breathing, peering down. That wasn't a fall he'd survive. Climbing up, he saw the hatch, partially open. Cross bow ready, he looked inside, cursing. No light. Not a good sign. This Stuart would have had a light on if he'd been held up here. Taking a torch from his belt, Daryl slipped it between his teeth, dropping down onto the railing beneath the hatch, the metal creaking but holding. The place was empty, a big empty warehouse with a few hundred crates in the centre. Filled with fireworks. His childhood dream seeming pointless now.

Hurrying down the staircase, he went to the door, pulling up the heavy metal bars that were slotted across the enterance. The first was hefty and he strained to pull it, but the second came easier, and the third was almost eager to be set free of the lock. When the door opened, with the light of three torches, Daryl was able to notice something at the back of the warehouse. Something up on the wall, dripping, a puddle of dark liquid beneath it. He cursed, wishing he'd noticed earlier. Cautiously, he walked over, training his torch light on the dark... Body. It was a body, pinned up like he'd been crucified, blood pouring from open wounds at his neck and wrists. His shirt was open, chest bare, a word carved into his flesh.

'Whisper.'

When Rick noticed Daryl's light, he walked over and winced at the sight. He'd not seen something like this in a while. His first though was the RV. They needed to get back soon if people were nearby who could do this. Douglas raced forward, murmuring mournfully under his breath. Rick had forgotten that this crucified man was a friend to their new acquaintance and he felt for the man. Daryl helped Douglas pull out the shards of metal used to nail the man up, his body falling into his friends arms as Diuglas cradled him, frowning.

"Whisper?" Daryl looked at Douglas who took a deep breath, swallowing his grief as he looked up.

"The whisperers. Group of assholes who attacked the safe zone few months back, and failed. He must have come here and run into them. Hell, I'm gonna have to tell his wife..." Douglas fell silent. Naomi, Stuart's wife, he'd had his way with her a month before all this crap had happened. More guilt he'd never live down. Telling her he'd failed to save Stuart... That was gonna be difficult.

"We need to get going," Rick commanded and Douglas slowly let his fallen comrade down to the blood soaked floor. He sighed, looking to the crates then to Rick, expression determined and stronger than before.

"We take as many as we can and light them outside of town. Alexandria will radio in NAND we can leave before the whisperers know we were here... We have to leave Stuart here though... Take one of their kills and..." He trailed off and Rick let him linger there, Tyrese and Sasha lifting a box together while Daryl went for another, all pausing in alarm as a bright light came from outside. Rick raced out, eyes widening as he saw the street lights turning on one by one, all they way down the residential street... Where a walker heard was heading toward them. He swore and called for them to hurry but then the sound of nearing groans and cries was broken by the blaring sound of a siren. Rick couldn't see where it came from but it summoned the attention of the dead toward them and he had no choice but to heave the door shut.

Daryl raced to help, stunned by how close the hoard was. Those weren't on their way a few minutes ago. No, someone brought them here and was guiding them to the warehouse. Douglas stood up, frozen, fear etched in his now pale face, "it's them. Shit, their gonna let the dead rip us apart and watch. Damn you Stuart, why didn't you leave a warning you selfish bastard!"

"I think he was the warning" Rick said, loading his gun, heading to the roof. That's when Daryl heard Beth's voice in his head. We should burn it down. His eyes strayed to Tyrese and the box of fireworks. The tower of boxes. It was a long shot but it was all they had. Running over, he found the biggest rocket, cutting it open, making a trail of gun powder to the stairs that led to the roof. Rick noticed, reading Daryl in a heartbeat, all to aware of the plan. He didn't think twice, trusting his friends impulse.

"Everyone up and out, Douglas, call the RV, tell them to drive up to the cover of the Forrest."

As the plan unfolded, Daryl focused on his task, ignoring the siren that made his ears ring, ignoring the walkers pounding at the door, letting himself recall Beth's words over and over in his mind. He remembered throwing all that moonshine about as she laughed, lighting the fire, watching it burn, raising a middle finger because she wanted to. He smiled for a moment, standing back. The trail was long but he'd have to be quick. Pulling out the matchbox from the motel, he struck a light and stared at it for a moment.

"Light 'em up," he murmured, flicking the match, the flame traveling quicker than he expected. Daryl raced up the stairs, two at a time, resisting the urge to look back, even when the first of the dead broke through the door and began growling and groaning at the sight of him. Rick was waiting at on the roof, pulling Daryl up.

"Ready?" He breathed pointing over to the adjacent rooftop where the others were waiting. Daryl nodded, both jumping, all running across the shop rooftops, making it to a stretch of empty street. Daryl shot a walker with his cross bow, about to retrieve the arrow when the explosion set the street alight, shaking the ground, collapsing the shops beside it, a huge fiery light burning everything in it's wake. He got up and ran, following the others, unable to stop himself smiling as he heard the words in his head. We should burn it down. Hell why did it make him feel so alive to feel the heat of the fire and the ghost of her words circling his mind.

Beth Greene hadn't just changed him. She'd driven him crazy, and he couldn't imagine life any other way.

...

"Come on Snow! Sit!"

The dog remained standing, staring into Dawn's sky blue eyes, tongue lolling, waiting for the treat he knew he'd be given regardless of his failure to heed her command. Dawn had been trying to teach him to sit for the past hour, only succeeding in losing a handful of jerky pieces. Snow was too loving. She couldn't resist giving him a treat when he stared at her with that face. Morgan just laughed and kept on studying his map. They were close to Johnson City and he was adamant that they would stay there the night if it seemed safe. Dawn didn't mind. Her back was aching from sleeping in the car. They had passed the motel that day. Morgan said he saw new tyre tracks leading out from the motel to the open road. In his mind, they were hot on Rick's heels, but she was a little less sure. Knowing her group, they'd had little reason to stop anywhere, no one to stop and help. Maybe they were a few days away at least, but Morgan didn't seem to realise how slow a journey they'd had. Regardless, Dawn appreciated how hopeful he was. Morgan was more open and honest with her and she preferred it to how things had been.

"That dog ain't gonna learn nothing if you keep spoiling it."

Morgan sighed as she ignored him, insisting the creature sit. Standing up, he stretched, folding the map away carefully. About time one of them slept, and if Dawn wouldn't, he sure as hell could use some rest. He trusted her to keep watch. She wasn't as useless as he'd expected her to be. Dawn watched and knew her way with a knife. He wished they had a gun to use but with a Forrest of unseen threats around them, avoiding loud sounds was probably wisest.

Glancing at the dog, he smiled for a moment, before speaking in a low commanding tone, "Here boy, sit!"

To his surprise, Snow sat immeadietly, wagging his tail. Dawn groaned and held up her hands in resignation, "I give up!"

Then, a low rumble sounded from ahead of them. Distant but loud, a bright light shining from beyond the trees. Then, a thousand different fireworks exploded in the sky all at once, the sound horrifyingly loud, like an almighty crack of thunder. Dawn jumped, staring up as the sky was alight with explosions for a moment. He feared it might be a bomb, while Dawn feared it was the sound of something coming. Then, it died, and the silence absorbed them. Morgan glanced down at her, "we should sleep in the car tonight."

She nodded, putting out the fire, glancing up at him, "for a moment I thought the universe might have exploded."

Uneasily, he laughed, "those weren't stars."

She nodded, packing away the blankets and tins, "I know but I still made a wish on it."

That made Morgan pause, confused as he saw how matter of factory she'd spoken. Noticing his slowed pace, she looked at him, smiling, "don't worry, I didn't wish for anything stupid."

They tried to find Snow but he'd run off when they had been distracted by the explosion. Dawn wasn't overly concerned. She knew too well he was wild, but tame enough to come back by morning. Morgan let her know they'd stay till Dawn which made her smile.

As they climbed into the car, curiosity overweighted alarm and he asked her what she wished for. Dawn shrugged, staring up at the sky through the window, "I wished for whoever I lost to come back to me... like the wolf calling the moon."

...

"What the hell happend?!"

Glenn's outcry was a welcome sound as Rick and the others approached the concealed RV. Carol rushed over to Tyrese, embracing him. Sasha laughed and wiped sweat from her forehead. Douglas rushed ahead with Rick, hurrying to his radio. Daryl was the only one left alone outside, taking deep breaths, still weary from the long run here. He rested a hand on the cool door of the RV, listening to Rick and Douglas.

"No signal yet, might take soem time for my people to figure out it's me. We've lost a lot of people out here lately."

"We can't linger here too long."

"Don't worry. We will be gone the moment they radio in."

Daryl heard enough to know they were staying put. That meant he could afford soem time alone. Heading into the trees, he followed the moonlight, looking for somewhere far enough to earn him privacy, just not too far for him to lose awareness of what was happening at camp. Deep down he knew they were being followed, or would be the moment those whisperers knew they'd escaped the fire. When bodied don't have guns beside them it's obvious all you've killed are walkers. He hadn't heard of these whisperers before, but they'd met enough of their kind. Truth was, no one out there was trustworthy. You stick your neck out for your own and you fight for them. That's why he was here, with Rick, with what was left of their group. They were family... Beth had been family. Thinking of her, he stopped, noticing a small river up ahead. Carefully avoiding the twisted maze of roots and undergrowth energy his feet, he made his way to the crooked tree whose roots spilled into the river. The water was silent, running without a sound, save for the odd trickle as he stuck the toe of his boot into it.

The moon left him in shadows, darkness absorbing him. It seemed he was always in the dark. It's where people like him belonged. Lost and alone. His mom used to say that to him when she was drunk. That he was meant to be alone, meant to be some stray dog walking the street, too much of a mutt to ever amount to anything, too wild to ever find anyone who could put up with him. He'd walk out when she was like that, slam the door and make out he hadn't heard, but the words burnt into him, even now. Especially now. A lonely dog sitting in the shadows, waiting for the next struggle ahead.

He considered getting his knife and attacking another tree to vent some of the anger, but he wasn't angry enough. Grief was his trouble and it didn't go away when you started hitting something. Grief needed time, and pain, and someone to listen. Damn Beth Greene for ever letting him think he had someone to talk to. Damn Merle Dixon for dying on him, leaving him without any family. Family had to listen to your shit. Instead, he just looked up at the moon and let himself relax. Till a rustle behind him brought him back to where he was. Grabbing his knife, he spun round, staring at the white creature before him. A single brown eye staring up at him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors note : thanks for all reviews, please leave me feedback and hope your enjoying the story so far! Song I used in this cahpter is not about angels by birdy :) thanks x **

Shock. That's what he felt searing through him as he stared at the dog. The same dog who'd come to the house. Same dog Beth had left a bowl of food out for. Same dog he'd tried to call back just to see her smile. It watched him, tongue lolling to one side, it's one eye fixed on him. He heard Beth again, her voice traveling in the breeze that chilled him. You said there was a dog. Her smile, that childish intrigue in her tone, it began to break him and he looked away from the dog, eyes burning. The stupid creature just kept watchin, panting, keeping him company and yet only making him feel more alone. He swore at himself, angry at his weakness, angry at the pain he felt flooding into him from the memories of times long lost. Damn dog didn't help. It followed him, lying it's head on his lap, waiting for attention. He fought the urge to push it away, send it running, letting his hand rest nervously on it head. It seemed to like that. It's body relaxed and his eye closed as Daryl slowly scratched behind it's ears. He knew too well how to treat a dog. He'd played with enough growing up, been attacked by a few on the road with Merle, but they had basic needs and he could relate.

"You out here look in' for her too?" He asked he creature, it's ears pricking up to his voice. Daryl sighed. Was he really so desperate for company that he was talking to a one eyed dog. Usually this kinda scenario was brought on by drinking but as he sadly noted, he hadn't had a drop of alcohol since that moonshine enriched stay at the shack with Beth.

The whole thing was crazy to him. Just when he was sure he'd have to suffer alone here was the dog Beth had wanted to see so much. If he was anything like that chicken shit priest he'd believe Saint Beth had sent the good creature to ease his sorrow. Religion and superstitions were comfort for the weak minded and Daryl couldn't let himself fall prey to stupid beliefs. Too many people relied on him. Instead of praying, he pulled out the cigarettes he'd stashed in his pocket, lighting one up, taking a long draw on it, blowing the smoke out with a pained sigh. There was something else in his pocket. He drew it out, rolling his eyes. Damn cassette tape, the artist name unknown to him. The dog seemed interested in it so he let him have it, it's teeth clinking against the cheap plastic. Music didn't mean much to him anymore.

A soft breeze rusted the fallen leaves that covered the Forrest floor, the dogs head lifting, smelling something from the south. Daryl glanced behind him, wondering what the creature had caught scent of. Wouldn't be a walker. No groans. Maybe just some squirrel. Then, without warning, the dog howled and Daryl jumped, startled, cursing as it howled again. The sound was mournful, sad. Like he was calling for someone who couldn't hear him. Hell, that feeling was all to familiar for Daryl. He patted the dogs head, getting up.

"Come on, full stomach will help."

The dog didn't seem to hear him, focused on the shadows behind him. He barked, pulling at Daryl's trouser leg, bounding into the shadows, a white spectre dancing amongst the trees. It wanted to be followed. Daryl began to walk away but the dog ran around his legs, almost causing him to trip. Frustrated, he shooed it away, walking back to camp, the dogs howls making him feel uneasy.

Poor mutt probably missed whoever took care of him. There's a certain love between a dog and it's owner, the care and love you give a pet makes it dependant on that person. He frowned. People used to call him Merle's dog. Running after him, looking to him for guidance and affection. Wasn't Daryl's fault he didn't have anyone else who gave a shit about him. One good thing about this world, weren't many people to judge who you were. Age, race, background, nothing mattered. In the old would, a guy like him would be avoided by every member of his group. Except maybe Beth. At the farm she' been wary of him but only because he was a different guy back then. Easily aggravated, ill mannered... First time they ever spoke she'd come in after he got shot, offering to get him something to eat. He'd glared at her and warned her to get out. Even then, scared and nervous as she was, she gave him a sharp look and marched out.

At the house, she must have seen him change. He hoped so. He hoped she'd understood by the way he looked at her that he didn't change on his own. It was because of her. There'd been something in that look they shared at the table, something he didn't understand and yet knew too well. Maybe that's why he missed her so much. Maybe because they almost had something. Something he'd never even considered before. Something he still didn't understand. Something he'd never have. It was more than just a feeling, it was deeper, deep enough to make her being gone more painful than anything he'd ever felt before. When he couldn't find Sophia, then failed Carol when he opened that barn door to see her dead... That hurt. When Merle stared at him with empty, soulless eyes, reaching out to tear him apart... That hurt even more. When Beth was seconds away from being back beside him, when that bullet shot through her... It didn't hurt him. It destroyed him. He wouldn't let anyone carry her because she was his burden to hold.

The heat of her body in his arms still burnt and he glanced at the dog, recognising it's desperate need to run home. Suddenly, he was angry. Angry for remembering Beth and reliving the pain. Angry at the dog for dragging back the images of the house and the ghost of her voice. He grabbed a rock and threw it, just missing it's face, yelling, "Go on! Get! She ain't here no more! She's gone, your too late!"

The second rock hit it's mark, striking the dogs leg. It whimpered, running. He watched it disappear, till all that remains where the shadows of the trees and a few silver streams of moonlight.

Guilt. All he felt was guilt. He slumped against the tree behind him, eyes opening to find the night was fading, early rays of sunlight steaming across the horizon. His leg ached, he moved moved it shivering as he noticed he'd been resting it in the river... He was here. By the river. No sign of the dog. No sign of anything. He'd fallen asleep at this tree. Daryl yawned groaning as he felt his head ache. He reached for the cigarettes in his pocket confused when he felt something missing. The tape. The tape was gone.

Maybe he hadn't been dreaming. He cursed and rose up, hurrying back to the RV, unwilling to think about what had passed that night. All those memories, all those emotions how angry he was how he treated the dog she wanted to see so much...

"Daryl!"

He spun round, heart racing, hearing her voice. Beth's voice. He ran in the direction of its caller, tripping over roots and weeds, racing toward... Michonne. She seemed concerned when her eyes met his.

"We were worried you'd got lost... Alexandria have made contact. We need to leave, now."

...

Driving into Johnson City was a fools decision, but Morgan didn't have much choice. Going around the town would have cost them a days travel and winter was falling fast. He was sure there would be snow in the next few weeks. They had to be fast or finding Rick would be impossible. Dawn agreed to his suprise. They woke early, Snow still missing. She had spoken up and admitting they couldn't afford to waste time. For someone so young he admired how strong she was. It helped when he was forced to make risky decisions like this. At least he could rely on her being as calm and steady as he was.

"Main Street is up this way," she murmured, pointing to a road with houses either side. He'd planned on them staying in one of them for the night but after the explosion he was keen to get past this town swiftly. The area seemed desolate, no walkers in sight, a few bodies on the sidewalk warning of recent visitors. Not till they neared Main Street did they notice the car blocking the way. It was almost too obvious a trap. Morgan knew he had no choice but to move it. If it was a trap there was no going back. Dawn read his mind but seemed less convinced of foul play.

"Something's burning up ahead... There should be a row of shops there..." She sprinted past the car where a fire was burning low, the absence of shops visible over the jeep parked across the road making him question what had happend here. The sound of a door opening forcing him to look right, calling Dawn's name to no avail. She was running ahead, past the car. He cursed, grabbing his knife, running after her. He darted glances left and right, unnerved but how desolate a place it was. The explosion yesterday would have brought attention to this small town from every direction,and yet this town was the most desolate he had ever come across. When he found her, she was standing, watching the fire with wide eyes. Her mind was burning with images of a fire she had lit, with a shadowy figure by her side. Burn it down.

"We should burn it down," she whispered, walking forward, unaware of the confused glance Morgan had passed her way. Rubble and metal beams lay to her right. Smoking as though some great dragon were asleep beneath the rubble. Gravestones of what had been destroyed. Metal shards were everywhere burnt black. Pieces of a metal warehouse most likely. She looked past the burnt shops to the fire still burning. A smell hit her and she gagged. Cooked flesh. A mound of bodies lay in charred pieces around the fire. Faces too deformed by fire to let her recognise who they might have been. She held a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry. What if they were her group? What if they were dead and she'd watched from afar as they lost their lives in an explosion shed been miles away from? What if... No. No, she could see clearly now. The bodies were unarmed, most were moving, undead. No she knew they weren't her group, in her heart, in her gut, she knew.

Some were closer to her, a few snarling as they slowly burnt, eyes melted down, teeth barred as they bit the air. Training her knife over one of them, she pierced through its eye socket, soft flesh absorbing her knife. She did the same for most of the ones still moving. They weren't living people, but they had been once. Rebecca had shown her kindness, she gave the dead a better ending, remembering they were once people. Dawn wanted to show that same mercy.

Morgan warned her away but she kept going, fear pumping through her blood. She prayed her friends weren't among the dead. Her toe hit a bundle of boxes, all burnt, save for one which emerged from the ash as she lifted it. JC Sparklers. She recognised the name.

Fireworks. Fireworks her father bought every fourth of July. Fireworks Maggie always insisted she light, exploding into the star filled sky. Jimmy was there sometimes, trying to scare her with firecrackers. Her mom would hurry over and complain they were scaring the horses. Her dad would wink at her and lead them out to the field, lighting a few more. Part of her wished she could just go home.

Tears filled her eyes but she wiped them away, pushing the box of sparklers into her jacket pocket. With a small sigh, she said goodbye to the days she could enjoy life with her family, turning back to Morgan with fire in her eyes, "we need to go. There's nothing left for us here."

He stared around, nodding, hurrying over to the car, pushing it aside. As she rushed over to help, she noticed a walker a little way up the road. The road they would soon be taking. The road out of town. In it's head was an arrow. Green tipped, so familiar and yet she couldn't remember why. It seemed to beckon her over, crying out for her to retrieve it. Carefully, she pulled it out of the walker, blood dripping from it's pointed end, her fingers softly caressing the cool metal. Someone let her use one of these once. Shot from a...

"Cross bow."

Beth looked to the way ahead, frowning, chest constricted as though something had taken hold oh her, pulling her forward, pulling her back to them. What did it mean. Who did they mean... She knew who. It was the person who evaded her memory and yet never left her. The shadowy figure without a face who was at Rebecca's house, who took care of her, who meant so much...The fire, the arrow... Who had been there with her...

"Beth! Get in!"

Morgan had pulled up behind her, waiting, a nervous look in his deep brown eyes. Dawn was suddenly aware of a low rumble from afar, the street lights turning on one by one. Unable to move, she looked at him. A single word left her lips,

"Whisperers."

...

They were on the road again, and rick was relieved to be out of the danger... For now. Getting back to his son and daughter had been the cure for his momentary fear and holding onto them was what urged him forward. Douglas seemed all to aware of how eager he was to get going, never letting the radio slip from his grasp trying to get an answer to his message for help. After a night of nothing but static, Rick began to prepare for the worst, ready to accept they were on their own. He began to become aware of his group. Maggie, pale and listless was with Glenn who looked like a man without a years sleep. Carol was with Tyrese, treating his burns, while Sasha slept. Abraham was studying he map again, alone, ignoring Eugene and the others as they rested in their beds. Daryl was missing, but Rick knew all too well he needed time alone. Hell, he was lucky Daryl hadn't lost sight of everything the way he had when Lori died... Rick wasn't even sure why, but he had a feeling the time Daryl and Beth had spent alone hadn't been uneventful. She meant more to him than he could understand and seeing him hold her, crying, broken... Rick thought he might be looking in a mirror. When the sun began to rise, and a radio message came in, Rick began to care less for Alexandria and more for the possibility of Daryl leaving.

"Douglas... Sending a unit...meet at checkpoint alpha...sundown..." The transmission cut off and Douglas tried to get it back. Failing. Slamming the desk with his fist, taking a deep breath before glancing at Rick.

"Dale city. Town of communities... It was out first safe zone till we lost it to the dead... We better start off, good two days ride," he pointed to the map, a pin stuck into the town, the idea of a sanctuary giving Rick the energy to push on. He turned to Michonne who lingered beside him, studying the map with a thoughtful expression.

"I need to find Daryl..."

Rick started but she nodded, moving to go, voice low and she spoke to him, "we should trust him... I've heard about Dale... It fell to the dead but there were survivors."

Rick gave her an appreciative look, facing Douglas who seemed relieved and weary, "You get some sleep."

He seemed wary, uneasy, "I don't feel like being let behind so I'll stay up."

Rick shook his head, placing a hand don't he mans shoulder, "I ain't in the habit of believing strangers much either... But if were being saved, then I owe you a lot. Till then, rest up."

Douglas agreed with a shrug, too tired to argue, the smell of smoke still with him as he collapsed on the spare bed, ignoring the conversations of those around him, thinking of his family. He swore he'd never cheat again. Swore he'd kiss Regina like she meant something, maybe ease up on his son. These people might be a little wild but he appreciated how they looked out for each other. He admired the bond between them. Most of all, he looked to Rick and his kids and saw a type of love he never knew. All those years feeling lost and hopeless, maybe all he needed was to love his family. If he ever saw them again.

The RV engine began, and they were moving. Douglas closed his eyes, dreaming of his wife.

...

Morgan stopped the car at an abandoned gas station. He didn't have much choice. When they left Johnson City Dawn had fallen asleep almost instantly, murmuring in her sleep, holding her head as though it were hurting her. Deep down he feared she might be bleeding internally, her wound seeming to have healed but he wasn't a doctor. Then, he realised gas was running low. Kyle and Ben had taken a tank and they were suffering for it now. The gas station was a desperate attempt to gain some more miles in the car but Morgan doubted he'd have any luck. As they pulled in, he noticed the lack of interference with the glass of the shop window, the door still closed. The gas station was out the way, and there were no cars around. Morgan considered it possible that it was too out of the way to be looted.

"Beth?"

He glanced over at Dawn as she woke, the name she spoke seeming to cause her more confusion than it did to him. Glancing out the window, she frowned.

"We outta gas?"

He nodded, "ain't got much left, used too much fuel on those nights we needed the heat on."

She rubbed her head, looking outside, pulling her jacket closer. Nervous. The girl was nervous, so he did what he knew would work. He gave her a boiled sweet. She laughed and took it, giving him a playful punch, "I'll have no teeth by the time we find the others."

He let out a rumbling laugh, opening the car door, knife in hand. Dawn followed, slowing as she remembered the arrow that was carefully hidden by her feet. Something told her she needed of clean it, so as she got out of the car, she looked at the shop, knowing there might be a cleaning cloth inside. He glanced at Morgan who nodded.

"Be careful."

She smiled. He was repeating her words. Hurrying to the shop door, she wiped away the grime, peering in. Empty. She tapped the window. No walkers. Morgan loos over form the petrol metre he was studying, "break the glass, I got your back."

Without hesitation, she found the heaviest item at hand. A brick from the broken wall a little while off. The glass smashed and she turned the handle on the inside, slipping in, shivering. It smeled bad in there. Rotten food and something else. Something was dead in here, she could sense it. A few steps in and she saw it. An old corpse, warped by the summer heat, killed by a bullet from the gun it held. No walkers had been eating from it so she knew she was safe. Grabbing the gun, she slipped it into her jeans, searching the shelves. More tins of food that she cleared into her bag till it was full. The fridges were off and filled with ice cream tubs. Dawn remembered how much she loved ice cream. Vanilla. That was her favourite. Maggie liked chocolate chip. Dad liked blue berry. Sighing, she moved onto the shelf filled with stationary. Nothing was worth taking. Soem string. A comic book. The counter held little. A till full of money lay open but she didn't even consider stealing from it. A cabinet of cigarette boxes were on display. Useless. All she noticed was the box of gum that seemed a good idea. Some beef jerky. A bottle of whiskey. Cleanings rags... Then, on a low shelf, hidden amongst jars of mayonnaise and pickles, she saw something. A small jar labelled pigs feet.

She didn't understand her own impulse to take them, the name making her wrinkle her nose, her hands placing it gingerly into her bag. Something told her she wasn't taking them for herself, or for Morgan.

"Dawn!"

Closing the bag, she ran out, pulling the gun out, startled when she noticed Morgan crouching low. He urged her to get down, taking her hand, pulling her down behind the car.

"Heard something running over there."

Dawn trained the gun in the direction he pointed, over by two barrels filled with what were weeds now. More footsteps sounded and she got the trigger ready. About to fire as the intruder emerged...

"Snow!" She called out smiling as the creature came bounding toward her, Morgan snatching the gun as the dog leaped up onto Dawn, licking her face, dropping something in front of her. Frowning, she studied it, fingers wet from it's thick coat of saliva.

"Well I'll be damned," Morgan laughed. Dawn was howling a cassette. The label was blurred by its poor choice of carrier but Dawn made out the name birdy. Petting the dog, she went over to Morgan, smiling eagerly as she saw he had filled a tank of gas. Sliding back into the car, helping snow onto the back seat, she slotted the cassette in, holding the arrow carefully as she listen to the first song, leaning back, eyes half closed. The first song played and the voice of its singer forced tears to her eyes, her heart aching as she heard the words.

'How unfair, it's just our love

Found something real that's out of touch

But if you'd searched the whole wide world

Would you dare to let it go?

'Cause what about, what about angels?

They will come, they will go, make us special'

Glancing at the bow, she began to clean it with the rag in her hand, tears falling on it metal tip as she bowed her head and tried to focus on the good. On the light ahead of her. Yet all she could linger on was the absence of memory. The shadowy figure she may never remember. The warmth she felt when she saw that arrow, and the cold that settled when she realised she'd never understand what it meant. Maybe she was too damaged. Too broken. Too far gone to ever come back the same girl shed been. Even her name felt wrong. Dawn. It wasn't who she was. Everything was wrong, everything was misty and hidden. All she knew was that this song was for her, and this arrow was a part of her, and miles away, somewhere, someone was missing her as much as she missed them.


	11. Chapter 11

"Daryl I need to know I can count on you."

Rick's voice was tense. He couldn't make this journey alone. A part of him wanted to believe they could trust Douglas and this safe zone but Terminus and Woodbury clouded what hope he had of finding a sanctuary where hey would be safe. Daryl was where he always was when they travelled in the RV, sat at the dining table cleaning his cross bow. Rick doubted he would ever remove the years of wear from the weapon, but Daryl didn't seem to care for much else. He focused on it, eyes never straying from his task, ignoring the world around him. Rick was relieved he hadn't walked away or lost himself in the same way he had when Lori passed away, but losing Daryl by his side was dangerous, although Rick knew his concern was also for Daryl's grief. He wasn't much of an open book, didn't vent his emotions out by talking to anyone, and whatever he felt about Beth's death would only intensify with every moment he spent silently suffering by himself.

After a long silence, Daryl replied, not lifting his eyes from his cross bow, "Why would you think you couldn't count on me now?"

"After the hospital, and Beth..."

"We move on. No big deal," Daryl growled, angry with himself for being so blunt with Rick, the memory of the hospital causing his rage to rise, the numb pain of his grief returning as he remembered the gun shot. Rick didn't give up, sitting across from him.

"Daryl... Don't shut me out. I saw you, I know how it feels... You cared about her more than I knew and I'm sorry we failed her... But thas not on you."

"She was just a girl," the words weren't true but they tumbled out of Daryl's mouth as he looked to Rick. He was still afraid of why Beth had left him feeling so broken and to know other people noticed made him wish for an escape. A way of leaving, right now, to be alone. Rick shook his head knowingly, "No.. No she was much more... And I'm sorry you lost her before she knew it. Your my brother and I care about you... So I want you to..."

He stopped as Carl came up to him carrying a laughing Judith, his face pale, expression troubled, "Glenn needs you, it's Maggie... They need you."

Rick nodded, looking at his daughter, then to Daryl. An idea sprang to mind and he hoped it wasn't a mistake, "Daryl, could you take Judith while I sort... Whatever it is that needs sort in'"

Daryl's eyes widened but he stood and took her carefully, ensuring he was gentle with her. She looked up at him at grinned, showing off her two front teeth, cuddling the rag doll in her hands. Sitting her down on his lap, he watched her play. Kids were an area of life he knew little about. He'd never had a younger sibling, never had a kid that he knew of. He hadn't held a kid before Judith yet when he carried her that night, fed her from that bottle and watched her, it was as though a part of him just knew what to do. Lil' ass kicker. That was his name for her. Born fighting, lost and yet found again, always smiling despite the world she had been born into. He always felt sorry for her. For all she'd never know. No school, no playing in a park or going to the beach. He had lived without those sorts of fond memories but he knew a kid like her, born to parents who were good people, would have had a good life. Not now. Now, she was lucky to be alive. Few kids made it, especially so young. Most groups would consider her a liability but Daryl was more than willing to persevere for her.

That's what Beth would have wanted. If Daryl was the first father figure this girl had then Beth was the only mother she'd ever know. Beth was always carrying her around, feeding her playing with her. Sacrificed a lot but Beth was there for the girl without ever looking for anything in return. He couldn't imagine himself a father, he was too damaged himself, but Beth made him think different. If someone so young could give full time care to a child when she wasn't even an adult herself, then maybe anyone could be a parent. No. No, that wasn't true. Daryl shifted Judith so she could look out the window, noticing how fair her hair was, how blue her eyes were. No doubt she could have been Beth's child... But Beth would never have a future. Never have a chance to have a kid and be a wife... He withheld a curse and watched the child on his lap.

Recognising the rag doll, he studied it a little closer. It was made form scraps of clothes, the hair some sort of weaves straw. The eyes were buttons sewn on carefully. Beth. He'd seen her working on something at the prison, those evening when he passed her sitting on the stairs, or when it was sunny and she let Judith play in the grass. He wanted to smile but he couldn't do anything more than watch Judith cuddle the doll. Everything Beth ever left behind was something good. He couldn't remember her ever hurting anyone... Except him. When she left this world, she hurt him. Hurt him with every second she remained dead and gone. He let his head press against the window, pulling Judith a little closer humming a song that seemed to force itself to his lips. After a while, he realised it wasn't just a song. It was Beth's song. Promising they would be good. Promising something bright lay ahead of them. Promising she'd be with him. Never had a broken promise caused so much pain.

...

Morgan watched her clean that arrow. The remnants of the walker were long gone, the metal clean, but she kept shining it with that rag she found at the gas station, eyes never leaving it. He knew the look on her face too well. Focused on a task that distracted her from whatever tempest of fears and dark thoughts that lingered in her fragile mind. He could see she was concentrating on somthing, trying to remember. He glanced at the sky. Another hour and it would be nearing sun would set off again, down the alternative route. He didn't want these Whisperers taking him down at the border, and they were at risk of falling behind if they didn't start travelling by night aswell as by day.

"You wanna go?"

Dawn's voice wavered, her eyes focused on him, fingers tightly woven around the arrow. He shook his head, helplessly trying to think of something to help ease her mind. When he saw her in pain, it caused him pain. Dawn was becoming more than just a dead girl to bring to Rick, he could feel a paternal concern for her. She wasn't there to replace his son, but he felt responsible for her in a way only a father could. He cared that she was struggling, he wanted to help. Problem was, he didn't know how. Then he remembered the box of sparklers he'd noticed in her jacket pocket, left on the car dashboard. Rising from the muddy ground, he retrieved them, "I was thinking... While we have time... To enjoy two little things."

He held up the box and she smiled a sad smile, taking a sparkler from him, both of them lighting the ends with the dying camp fire. Instantly, a shower of a thousand tiny sparks burst into existence, crackling and shining, illuminating their faces. Dawn looked so much younger, almost like a child, smiling into the light. The scars of her dark past burnt away in the silver light and he watched her with fascination. Morgan thought of his son but in a way that made him smile. Something in Dawn reminded him of the good memories, that there had been good memories, that there would be better times ahead.

She laughed as he waved it around, drawing a blazing circle.

"Try writing your name," he suggested with a soft smile, remembering doing the same as a boy, watching as she wrote the letters. B. E. T. H. He frowned. She didn't seem to notice, so he spoke, "whose Beth?"

She froze, looking at him, then staring at the sparkler. Her eys grew wide, bright blue streaked with silver as she stared into the light. Memories flooded back. Someone calling her name, that voice, that man. Fire. Fire burning something down. A shack. A shack full of moonshine. Burn it down. Burn it down... To help someone. Beth. Beth, someone was calling her Beth, carrying her, eating with her, at the house. Holding her hand, fingers slipping between hers. A dog. A cross bow. That song. A jukebox... No, no jukebox... He wanted to hear her sing...

Fire. Middle finger raised to a fire. A fire to burn away a dark past. Fire...

Her fingers brushed the arrow hooked in her belt, remembering the figure of a man, pulling arrows from a walker, looking up at her...

Then she saw him. A face in the darkness of her mind. Sitting on a porch, watching her, strong and sad and kind... He came to the farm, got shot, went looking for a girl... He was teaching her to shoot a cross bow, he listened to her play piano, he tried to save her, he came to the hospital to get her back...

"Daryl... Oh my god, Daryl!"

The voice felt warm on her lips and she called his name out again and again, laughing, crying, the name filling her with renewed hope. Daryl. The person she was fighting to see, the person who took care of her after he prison, who gave her her first drink, who made her feel something... Daryl.

...

"Hold up, were missing someone!"

Douglas looked over to the boy who was talking. Glenn. He was looking around camp, worried, his girlfriend pale as she waited for him. It had been a few hours since he'd heard a whisper of her pregnancy from his bed. She looked awful. He considered looking for some pain relief for her in the store cupboard but they'd be at Dale soon. The first community town he'd lived in after it all happend. Dale wasn't rid of the dead but there was a safe house and his people would be waiting. They'd be there by nightfall, in three hours or so. They'd stopped by the road to refuel. Michonne and Sasha had gone to the woods, returning cleaner, having bathed in the nearby river. Glenn continued to look around, followed by Rick. Douglas heard the name Daryl and immeadietly understood. He'd taken off.

Rick began running into the woods, looking for some sign of him, calling his name. A walker growled and stumbled towards him, though he payed it little attention, still searching for Daryl as he stuck a knife through its forehead. Rick cursed himself for not anticipating this. Daryl was no where near being over what he'd left behind and he'd been stupid enough to think a few words and an hour with a child could fix a mans grief. If they left Daryl behind, he'd never forgive himself. Michonne swiftly followed him, asking where he'd last seen him. When had he last seen Daryl? Rick couldn't remember. He'd been with Judith, then she fell asleep and he gave her to Carl, then they stopped and Daryl...

"Takin' a piss what's wrong?"

Daryl's puzzled tone made Rick groan in annoyance at his momentary panic, laughing as he saw Michonne smile. Walking over to him, Daryl frowned.

"Thought I'd gone running?"

Rick shrugged and let out a relieved sigh. He didn't want to lose anyone else. Let alone the only man left in the group who he had complete faith in. Daryl seems amused, giving Rick a light punch to the arm, walking back with them to camp. As they headed back to the RV, Rick noticed Douglas in the road, staring at the way ahead. He joined him, looking ahead.

"Few more miles and were there... Almost home."

Douglas spoke with a wavering tone and Rick could see how much the man had missed his family. The look was undeniable. He looked on as though he could see them, standing in the distance. He glanced at Rick.

"I know my word counts for nothing... But I promise you, once we get to Alexandria, you'll all be safe. You'll all be home."

...

"Another five hours till we hit Washington."

The words urged Beth to smile in anticipation, regardless of her lack of sleep. How could she sleep? She remembered everything and kept remembering every missing piece of her past, in fear that it might all evade her mind. The entire duration of their drive from the camp, her pen had never left her journal, documenting everything she remembered of her time with Daryl and who Dawn was. Morgan had been confused when she refused to be called Dawn, insisting her name was Beth. Beth's Greene. Everything felt right. Not far from Washington, and already she remembered everything, everyone... And Daryl. Daryl Dixon, the reformed archer of the group who had been her guide and her friend out there... Suddenly, she couldn't stand to remain in silence, reliving her memories, mind strained. She glanced at Morgan.

"Let's play a game."

Morgan glanced at her, unable to take the question seriously. He wasn't one for games. I spy gave him a headache, Jenny usually engaging with Dwayne's game demands for entertainment on long trips. Knowing Beth, she'd come up with something that would involve making him sing. He just couldn't help but laugh and look over at her again, "seriously?"

She shrugged, "better than watching you frown at every song I put on."

He laughed genuinely at that. There was no hiding how much Dolly Parton wasn't his kinda girl. Hell, he couldn't remember a song that he actually loved but all this country music was not for him and Beth knew it. The tape the dog had found was better but not by much. The songs were too sad and he saw how much they effected Beth. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd rather listen to her sing than listen to the taped music. At least her songs were sweet and soft, her emotions bleeding into every line, making you feel every word she sang. Not many people could make you feel that way by just using their voice. Beth, however, didn't sing much since Johnson City, and seemed keen on a game to distract her from her deep thoughts.

"Let's play "things I miss." I'll start... I miss... Oh, television."

He grinned, nodding. This game he could play for hours and still not list everything he was lost without. Beth was smart. The game wasn't about who you missed, it was about things you missed. He liked that about her. She knew how to avoid the painful areas of life. Lately, she seemed more distant than usual, eyes glazed over as she stared out the window, or spent writing in her journal, her fingers always tangled around the arrow. This guy she remembered, Daryl, meant a lot to her and Morgan could see there was something confusing about that to her. Beth didn't understand something about how she felt and it absorbed her. Biting his lip, he thought for a second, "I miss... Beer. Never drank much of it before, but I'd take a case of it down in one go nowadays."

She laughed, "I've never had beer. My first and only drink was moonshine."

Morgan grimaced, glancing over at her in suprise, "thats some strong redneck poison."

Beth smiled, looking at the arrow, "It's awful but I liked it... Daryl found it for me."

He nodded, all too aware of how sad she sounded saying that name. After her outburst last night, she'd spoken a little of how she remembered everything. Rick never mentioned a Daryl in his group but from what Beth had said about him, he was pretty much second in command. She had been to Rebecca's house with him, they had moonshine together, and by the look of it, he might have broken her heart too. He didn't know what to say to her when she looked sad like this.

"I can't believe I forgot Daryl... After everything we went through, after all he did for me..." Beth looked at Morgan, confused, searching for some answer he couldn't possibly begin to give. Morgan knew the feeling. How many times had he cursed himself for forgetting what Jenny and Dwayne looked like. What their laughs sounded like. How they smiled. He looked over at her, speaking from experience, "sometimes the people we love most are the ones who slip away the fastest... Maybe he means so much to you that it was too painful to think about him."

Beth seemed to freeze and he regretted his words. Little did he know he had opened a part of her mind that had long been locked away. A pathway she never dared tread. Beth remembered that night, at the table, when she asked Daryl what had changed his mind about good people... And he looked at her, and the whole world fell silent... She couldn't breathe and all that had come out from her was a soft "oh." Then the walkers came and pulled them apart but before that, before she lost him... There was something. Something unnamed and unexpected that puzzled and scared them both. It was the moment she realised how blind she had been to the man he had always been.

Beth remembered him at the prison. She'd watched him, never even considering they'd shared anything more than a mutual concern for the group. Every morning he was on guard, he was there in the hall while she walked Judith... Sometimes he would look in on her. Making sure she was okay. One time he came to her after the raid on the market, when she had lost... Lost a boyfriend whose name didn't seem to exist anymore. Every part of her had wanted to grieve but she took a breath and accepted the good times they had shared, letting him go. Daryl just watched and she saw how sad he was. How frustrated. His eyes were dark and hard at times but she could see past the walls he put up. She knew how to shield herself from the world and in Daryl she saw herself. Maybe that was why she chose to hug him instead of just comfort him with kind words. She didn't expect him to hold her arm and let her that close, let her embrace him, her eyes staring into his as she smiled. That was the first time she could see the good in him, the broken soul with a soft side... She'd sworn to make an effort to befriend him a little more. Soon after, her wish was answered, only after her father was beheaded and her sister lost. It took time but he opened up and let her in. After that, she didn't just see a good man in him, she saw a boy. Someone who never got to see the light side of life because for him, the world had always been dark. His family, the violence, the anger, the pain... Daryl was a broken kid who grew up to become a broken man. A man who never let himself consider there was still good in the world.

What had she thought that night they burnt the shack? She remembered it all clearly, walking away from the fire. Beth had sworn she would show him more fun things to do. Make him smile a little more because she loved seeing him enjoying himself instead of just surviving. If the world hadn't gone to hell, she'd have taken him to the county fair, found him a jar of pigs feet. Maybe show him the old caravan by the lake that was meant to be hauntd, according to the kids she knew. He could laugh at how stupid it was. Then she remembered in the old world, a girl like her would never meet someone like him, and they could never be friends. That made her sad. He was judged by his upbringing, never given a chance. Shane, the dead guy who had been a complete dick to everyone, used to say things about Daryl. Call him horrid things, not trust him because he was a 'hill Billy red neck.' Beth didn't believe in much but she knew a man like Daryl was better than most of the men around in these dark days. He didn't kill people for fun, he didn't rape women or beat kids, or shoot his own if he felt down.

Why was she so surprised that he was the one person she forgot? He meant more to her than she cared to admit, and Morgan was right. It's the ones who you love most that you forget, because fear of losing them is too painful to bear. There was that word again. Love. If it was any other boy she'd have admitted to having a crush or liking them a lot, but not Daryl. Whatever it was she felt for Daryl, it was buried deep inside of her, close to her heart, and it couldn't be given a name. It scared her too much. It had to wait, till the moment they were reunited. Maybe then, when she felt him again, when she saw him, she'd understand it.


	12. Chapter 12

"How do you know... If something you felt was real?"

Morgan didn't expect Beth to be awake after the night she'd had tossing and turning in her sleep. It was near midday and they were close to the border, he'd carried her to the car and packed up their make shift camp while she slept. When he looked over, he saw the dark circles around her eyes were less pronounced than they had been earlier, her blue eyes shining brighter than the sky. Winter was coming and the world was turning grey quickly. Beth was the last ray of sunshine still in existence in a darkening world. He shrugged, thinking of his wife with a soft smile, trying to remember how he'd felt with her by his side.

"When its real, you just know. All I have to do is think of... Of jenny... And I feel it. Right here."

She watched as he pressed his palm over his heart, to a place she knew well.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, trying to overcome the sadness lingering in her soul as she spoke, "That's crazy"

"Your not the first to call me that," he chuckled, noticing how serious she suddenly seemed as she met his gaze.

"No I mean... That's crazy because... Because that's where I feel it."

Beth touched the same spot where a dull ache kept throbbing despite how much she tried to rally her spirits. It returned to her every time she fell asleep, every time her doubts for their future began to cloud the hope she tried to keep alive. Every time she thought of being happy. The pain didn't seem to ever fade away. Morgan nodded, Knowingly.

"Must be love then"

Fear. She felt it run deep inside of her. She didn't know why but something told her this pain that hurt her was tied around her lingering thoughts of Daryl. Everytime she awoke from a dream involving him, everytime she remembered him... The same pain tore into her chest and burnt her. As a sign ahead signalled their enterance into Washington, she focused on the pain and willed it to stop, whispering to herself "It can't be... "

Morgan misheard her laughing a little in an effort to raise her spirits, "It is, were here. Just hope the roads stay this clear."

Beth smiled, all too aware of his constant attempts to stay hopeful. It couldn't be easy for him. Suddenly, she felt selfish and hated herself for that. All Morgan had to look to was seeing Rick and finding a safe place to live out his remaining years. Beth was lucky. Her group was, in a way, her family. Carl, Rick, Carol, Glenn... If they'd all made it she would have peopel who cared about her. Daryl. Daryl would be shocked to see her and she took childish enjoyment in thinking of how much she'd stun him. There was no question he was still alive. Nothing could kill Daryl Dixon. It was a fact of life she'd long since accepted.

Morgan, however, had lost everyone and never had a chance of finding anyone to help ease his pain. Except maybe for her. She liked to think she could help him. Heal him. Show him kindness and care so he might see her as family. As the road widened ahead, tall office buildings and roofes of houses became apparent in the distance. Morgan sighed in relief and she felt happy for the both of them. Snow barked, making Morgan swerve, both of them laughing. Then, Morgan cursed, slowing. Up ahead, a large dark mound obstructed the road. He could have gone round but a few abandoned cars lingered by the grass beside he road. Straining to see what the mound was, Morgan leaned over the wheel, suprises when Beth answered his minds query.

"It's... It's a wolf."

He doubted the large mound could be any sort of creature but soon he was walking toward it followed by Beth. Snow refused to leave the car, sniffing the air, cowering away. Beth knew it was a wolf. Her dad always said dogs don't scare easy, unless they smell an animals that scares them, like wolves. He also told her dogs don't like smelling dead things, but she knew snow would have been used to the scent of decay since the corpses started walking. Morgan came to the mound, frowning, cursing as he saw it was a wolf. Grey fur so dark it was almost black as night, the head battered, beaten by a baseball bat or some other blunt object he guessed. The stomach was cut open, entrails spilling out onto the road. A walker crouched low, eating at some, silent sake for the soft squelching of the intestines in its mouth. To his suprise, Beth didn't bat an eyelid, walking through the blood and torn flesh, pushing her knife into the walkers skull, sighing as she looked at the animal with mournful eyes.

"Poor thing must have suffered."

He nodded, knowing too well someone must have killed this beast on purpose, maybe hunting it down for meat. The flesh smelt old and was dark, a week maybe judging by the flies. He doubted that whoever killed it was still about. He glanced at Beth, "must have been someone's kill... Maybe they left it in a hurry."

Beth looked around, suddenly eager to get moving, grabbing hold of one of the wolfs hind legs, looking expectantly at Morgan who took a deep breath, pushing the creature aside, struggling against it's weight. Beth strained, pulling hard, the smell making her stomach clench, but she refused to let herself wretch. When they finally moved it to a clear spot, Beth crouched near its head, petting the fur by its vacant eyes. Morgan urged her to leave and she rose, walking back to the car, thinking of the lone wolf and the moon. A memory surfaced. Her father, at the prison, sitting with his bible as she fed Judith. He had heard Daryl left with Merle and was talking about him.

"Poor boy always looks lost... A lone wolf always does." Her fathers words seemed to haunt the cold breeze that blew against her making her slow down, looking at the red stain in the road. She realised the lone wolf wasn't her, it was Daryl. When Morgan had told her the story of the lone wolf, she'd been thinking of Daryl. That's when she noticed something white yellow and curved gleaming in the remnants of the wolfs entrails. Reaching down, she pulled it up, wiping away the blood with her sleeve eyes widening. It was a tooth.

For some reason, she slipped it in her pocket. Not for herself, but for Daryl.

...

The moment they entered Dahlgren, Beth knew things weren't any better here. Walkers roamed the streets, houses were ransacked and abandoned. As they pulled up to a junction, she noticed four moving bodied hanging from a street light. Suicides gone wrong. The hanging walkers shook and swung as they saw the car pass them. Morgan swallowed his instinct to curse. There was no sign of anyone living around and he knew he wouldn't find any markers from Rick. If Rick was even here. After a while driving down a clear road, he asked Beth to get the map out, tracking where they were. They'd passed the sign for Washington miles back, having to make a diversion as the highway filled with abandoned cars. This way, they would have a longer journey, but Morgan was sure they would be safe as long as the got across the bridge.

"Here is Dahlgren... Potomac river is an hour that way..."

He pulled the car over frowning as he studied the map, shifting uncomfortably. His back was playing up again. She knew the signs. How he kept twisting his neck and moving in his seat. They needed a nights rest in a bed, or at least on a flat surface. Her neck was cramped and she'd never admit to it, but her scar was beginning to ache from the inside, as though something were still there, burning into the front of her skull. To hide her discomfort, she turned and pet Snow, sleeping comfortably on the back seat between the bags of empty cans and supplies, her eyes closing as she tried to push away the pain.

"Don't suppose you remember anyone mentioning where they were going next."

Glancing at him, she shook her head helplessly, "I was kinda never there with them, after the prison."

He nodded, eyes straining as he studied the map again, finger tracing the road that led across the river, trying to find a route. He needed more. A marker to indicate some sort of sanctuary. Or a meeting point. He felt lost, unable to figure out where to go next, unable to express his frustration due to the girl sitting beside him so full of hope. He glanced at her, wishing he had some food for her. They had been running low, missing breakfast to save rations for later. A can of corn and a few beef jerky pieces were all that remained. Rebecca had given them enough for a week but it had been longer than that and food was scarce. Most shops were looted, hunting was not his strong point. If only he had a gun.

"What's that?"

Beth spoke and he looked up from the map. He followed her finger, noticing a supermarket that seemed void of any undead occupants. The windows were still untouched, doors closed, car park empty. It was a marvel he hadn't noticed it before. She opened the window, looking around. The street was empty, a few dead ones a little way off, most of the surrounding structures being shops that sold clothes and shoes, a gas station with a collapsed roof, and some houses a little way off. Beth could almost imagine they were the only people left on earth. The silence was deafening. The morning rain made everything seem cold and clear, the dark clouds above casting a grey light on the world below. If they found supplies, the journey would be easier, and maybe a good meal could help rally their hopes. Hell, she knew she was beginning to find it hard to keep her spirits high.

Morgan started the car, speaking his plan aloud, "We pull up outside, I'll check the area. If it's clear..."

Beth cut him off rolling her eyes playfully as they parked outside the market, "We move in together. You'll take the lead, I'll grab what we need. Yes Sir."

He sighed, giving her hair a ruffle, making her laugh, "Okay Saint Beth, no need to prove you have heavenly wisdom."

She smirked. He always made jokes about her reawakening. Saint Beth he called her, sometimes even asking if she was Jesus in disguise. Her father would say such jokes were uncouth and blasphemous but Beth enjoyed them. They were absurd and always said with a smile, making her feel like Morgan's friend as opposed to a kid who just tagged after him. They were equal and she liked to see him treat her like an adult. He didn't worry she couldn't kill a walker or start a fire, or even scout out the area. He trusted her judgement and he knew she was tough. In a way, he was a lot like Daryl, although his age and his grief made her recognise his likeness to Rick. No wonder they were friends.

As they left the car, Morgan letting Snow out for a walk, Beth glanced at the road they had driven down, wondering how far away her group was. How far away Daryl was.

"See that pizza place we passed?" Morgan asked her grabbing his machete from the boot, throwing her a torch. She caught it, nodding.

"Rome pizza. Yeah. Me and my friends used to go places like that all the time, before."

Jimmy took her all the time. Maggie used to go with her friends and take Beth with her, sneaking her an extra slice here and there. Her dad didn't like that kinda food but he liked seeing his daughters out having fun. For her fourteenth birthday, Maggie brought home a pizza with fourteen candles on it. Somewhere at the barn, she had a photo of it... A photo long gone and forgotten. A sigh slipped from her lips as she followed Morgan to the door of the market.

He glanced at the glass, the gloomy light from outside providing poor light inside. Thinking of the past, he remembered his family, "My son loved pizza... Add that to my list of things I miss."

Beth smiled sadly, shining her light through the glass. Using his knife, Morgan pried open the door. They jammed as he tried to pull them further apart. He heaved and breathed hard, relenting with a weary groan.

"Ain't opening any more than that."

She nodded, slipping inside with ease, her arm caught by his hand, his voice strained and fearful, "it's too risky Beth, there could be..."

"Walkers? With all that notice they'd have come out by now. Don't worry, I'll get the stuff."

He shook his head, "lemme break the window..."

"No! It'll attract the dead all around the street. I'll be fine, just stay by the car in case we need to leave quick."

He kept a firm grass of her arm, worried, concern etched in his face as he stared down into her intense blue eyes, her expression firm as she spoke, "Morgan... I can do this. Trust me."

Slowly, he released her, handing her his machete which she took uneasily. As he walked away, she took a deep breath, pulling her sheriff hat low. The air was thick, stuffy but not laced with anything dead. Holding the torch up, she checked the area beside her. Clothes. Something they needed but she didn't want to start scavenging yet. She had to search the store first. Dead could be lurking in the aisles and she couldn't risk being attacked with cans and clothes weighing her down. Passing the tills, she scanned each isle with her torch. Cans were scarse but she saw a few scattered on different shelves. The alcohol selection was bare, a few broken bottles on the floor. The meat fridges were no longer on and the smell of what remained was strong, making her walk a little faster. As she darted down an isle, she heard a distant clink of wood. It was faint, barely detectable, but she knew better than to doubt her senses. Daryl taught her that. She remembered his words.

'Y'hear anythin' different, y'follow it. Most likely something dead creepin' up on ya.'

Carefully, she followed to tapping, passing the baby supplies, ignoring the ache in her heart inflicted by the sight of a child on a packet of diapers. Judith. No, she kept her focus, rounding a corner, frowning. Up ahead, she saw a sign, her torch illuminating the words. Fun zone. Beneath the sign was a room, closed of by a gate. Butterflies and cars were painted on the walls, a smiling sun staring at her eerily from its place on the wall. The tapping came from behind the white painted gate, too tall to see over without standing on the carefully placed step before it. She swallowed the dread that built up inside her knife by her side as she approached the step, heart racing as she heard the faint hiss of the dead. Their smell was evident and she should have walked away, saved herself from the sight of what lay beyond the fence, but she needed to do this. She wasn't weak, and she wouldn't let herself back down. Maggie wouldn't, Daryl wouldn't. Carl wouldn't either. Beth was strong.

Stepping up, she looked over the gate, biting her lip to save herself from crying out as she saw what lay before her. Three walkers. Three walkers who were also children. Barely able to walk, clustered together as they cried out, grey eyes staring up at her, striking the gate. One had a stump where a hand should have been, the tapping of it's bone against the gate making Beth gag, falling back, scrambling to her feet. She knew her nightmares would be haunted by those faces, those small faces with grey eyes and peeling skin and bloodied lips. Her own lip bled from the incisions her teeth had made and she spat blood, unaware of how she could overcome the image. Her strength forced her to resist the urge to call for Morgan! although she couldn't bring herself to kill the walkers. They were dead but they were children, a year or two older than Judith, her Judith...

"I see you've met my kids."

Beth spun round, knife raised as a woman walked out from behind a shelf of dog food cans, hunched as she lurched towards her. For a moment, Beth thought she might be a walker. Her hair was matted and greasy, face coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime, clothes a patchwork of multi coloured rags. Her eyes were murky and dark, shining with a demonic gleam as she stared into Beth. In her hand she carried a joint of meat, dripping with blood, her teeth yellow and crooked as she smiled up at her.

"Ain't they perfect... Excuse me a moment, they ain't been fed yet."

To Beth's horror she realised the woman was talking about the undead children. She couldn't move, paralysed by shock, watching as the woman heaved the skinned mass of meat over the fence, beaming with pride as the walkers began to tear their meal apart. The sound of their tiny jaws clenching onto the flesh of whatever she'd fed them filled the air and suddenly the world seems so loud. Beth wished she was dreaming, an illusion conjured by her damaged mind, but when she opened her eyes the woman was closer, holding out a blood stained hand. She took a step back, grip of her knife tightening, unable to speak. The woman beamed, pointing to the walkers.

"My girl, lily, she's wearing the blue print dress... The rest I'm watching for their mommas... Are you here to get them?"

Beth shook her head, close to nausea as the woman's dark eyes bore down on her, the stench of her unwashed clothes mixing with the scent of rotten flesh, suddenly making it hard to breath. The deranged woman kept walking toward Beth, holding out a hand, asking her to come see her children, whispering something under her breath. Something about fresh meat.

"I feed them every day, children need a varied diet you know... I give them birds and some of the dead ones out there... A few live ones too..." Her voice was steady, calm, her lips quivering as she continued to smile. She began to stare at Beth with hungry eyes. Eyes that saw her as meat rather than a person. The woman drew a hack saw from her rags, never looking away from Beth, voice breathless.

"Don't worry honey, I'll just take an arm... When you come back hungry, I'll put you with my kids. I'll take care of you..."

Stumbling away, Beth called for Morgan, too overwhelmed by the depravity she had witnessed to attack, her knife slipping from her grasp as she slipped on blood that coated the floor between the aisles. As she tried to get back to her feet, a hand grabbed her ankle, sharp nails tearing into her skin as she was dragged back. The woman was on her in moments, holding down her arm, angling the saw, ready to take off Beth's arm, never failing to smile... Till Snow came, biting into the woman's neck hard, causing her to scream as blood sprayed across the floor, coating Beth's face. When she tossed Snow aside with a harsh blow, the woman glanced down, her saw ready, eyes wide as a knife sliced through her neck as Beth cut deep and left the woman chocking on her blood. She held her throat, gasping, hand reaching out toward the fun zone, tears filling her wild eyes.

Beth slid away, staring as the life left the woman's eyes. She wasn't the first living person she'd killed, but Beth felt the knife in her hand suddenly grow heavier and she let it go.

"Here snow, good boy," she shivered, crawling over to the dog, hugging him. For a moment, she was a child, scared, hugging her pet, hiding from what lay around her. Her head hurt and the taste of the woman's blood burnt her lips. Approaching footsteps forced her to take the knife, raising it up.

"Beth?!"

Shaking, she dropped the knife, nodding as Morgan came to her, arms wrapped around her as he embraced her! staring at the dead woman. She wasn't a walker and he thanked god for that. He didn't ask her anything, waiting for her to calm down. He saw the blood staining her face, staining the dog. After a moment, Beth pulled away, wiping her tears away swiftly, expression strong once more.

"She attacked me. There are... There are dead kids over there. She fed them..."

"That's enough. Your okay, that enough," he took hold of her face, pulling a rag from his pocket, wiping the blood away, forcing a smile to his lips. She sighed taking the rag, finishing the job, rising to her feet. Her eyes strayed to the where the dead children were and he knew she wanted them to be saved from their undead state. He didn't want to do it but he saw how distraught she was. Snow barked, sniffing at the fallen cans of dog food.

"How about I deal with..."

She shook her head. She had to be the one to do it. This was her job. Everyone had a job and she had already killed their mother. Those kids were alive and beautiful once and Beth wanted them to die by someone who could see that. Besides, Morgan might have a relapse over his sons death of he saw them. No, Beth knew what to do. If she'd ever become one of them, she'd want to be killed by someone who saw her as more than just a dead girl. Looking up at him, she could almost see her father smiling back at her, so she let out a shuddering breath, taking his knife silently, "I need to do this."

Morgan let her go, the father in him urging him to run forward and stop her save her form the horror and the pain... But this wasn't a world where she could be saved form such depravity. Every step they took was tainted by the dead and the desperate, he couldn't pretend to be ignorant of how strong she was. So, taking hold of snow, he took a nearby shopping trolley, placing the dog inside as he began loading up on dog food. A few cans were unopened. A small bag of dog kibble rested by the shelf, and he opened it, letting Snow stick his head in the bag, eating at a pace almost unimaginable. Morgan was glad they and the dog. He saved Beth, he kept her smiling, and times like this, he cheered Morgan up aswell.

"I got cherries!"

He turned to see Beth. Her face was tight and tense, but she was forcing a smile and he appreciated that. She dropped two cans of tinned cherries into the trolley. Had this been an ordinary day in an ordinary world, he'd have promised to make her a pie topped with whipped cream, like Jenny used to make in the summer. He could almost taste the crisp crust and soft cherries. Damn that was another thing to put on his things he missed list. Beth's game was starting to slip into everything he did and he found it helpful. Kept him able to smile.

He glanced over at her, groaning as she retrieved toothpaste and toothbrushes, along with soap, "damn I don't miss brushing my teeth."

She scrunched up her nose and laughed, "You need it. Badly."

He gave her a playful push, rubbing his chin, noticing her eyes falling on him. Hurrying back to he shelf, she came back with a shaving razor, "I got you covered."

He laughed genuinely, shrugging, "yeah I think I need a good shave."

Beth smiled, remembering her times back at the prison, "There's a guy in our group, Glenn... He told me he tried to grow a beard once and it took him a year just to get a little moustache."

Morgan chuckled, grabbing some aspirin from the top shelf above her, "Not everyone has my boy used to say he wanted to have some facial hair. One day he came down, must have been seven or eight, dressed for school, with black marker on his top lip."

She laughed, taking hold of his arm as she noticed how his eyes watered a little at the thought of his son.

As they passed two isles of empty shelves, he noticed her linger by a collection of stuffed toys. A few bears, and a doll, with yellow cloth hair, wearing a green jacket and brown boots. He let out a laugh, "looks like you."

She nodded, smiling, "what I was thinking."

He took hold of it, handing it to her, "take it. For luck."

Beth hesitated, letting her fingers brush across the stitched smiles. Judith would love it. It beat the rag doll she'd tried hard to make her at the prison. She took it, slipping it into her pocket, glad the jacket was so large. They found a few cans of beans and some more fruit, mostly peaches. A pack of jerky, a few tins of sardines. They mad their way over to the clothes department. Morgan loaded up on socks and gloves and jumpers, but Beth lingered by the boots. A pair sat before her, brown and high with laces, a small heel, the front made to look a little worn. They reminded her of all the women on the old south western singles her mom had collected. Cowboy boots to match her hat. Her hat! Pulling on the shoes, she ran back to the bloody isle, panicking as she failed to see it. Gone. It could to be gone. Her heart raced, turning to the gate... No. No, she'd lost it somewhere and it wasn't here.

"Beth? You okay?"

Morgan called out, worried. She hurried back to him, knowing she'd be pathetic to cry over something so insignificant but she felt lost without it. Reaching him, she sighed, "lost my hat, sorry."

He frowned, glancing at the trolley, picking up... Her hat. She laughed, taking it, securing it to her head, confused by his sudden look of concern, "what's wrong?"

"Dogs gone."

...

They spent the next hour searching for Snow, the sky begining to darken as they loaded the car with their new found supplies. Beth searched the road, worried, unable to see any sign of him. She had searched the store a dozen times, shaken the dog food bag, even opened a tin of his food to try and lure him out but to no avail. As Morgan started the engine, she let herself accept he'd run off. He had done it before and come running back. It was risky to stay out here, still needing to find a place to spend the night. Kicking at a rock with her boot, she stared up at the sky. Dark clouds swirled, suffocating the sunlight. Yet, she smiled, closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind chill her forcing her hair to dance, wild and untamed. She thought of every bright moment she'd ever felt. She thought of the farm, of her dad, of Judith playing with her doll, of Maggie teasing Glenn... Of Daryl. Daryl arguing with her, breaking down over everything they'd lost, drinking with her, carrying her... Saving her. If anything were to happen, if she didn't make it to them, she'd be damned if she didn't let herself remember just how many good memories she had of them.

"Any sign of him?" Morgan called from the car window. She turned, rubbing her arms, heading over, shaking her head with a sad smile.

"He'll turn up... We need to get going, were losing light."

He nodded, waiting for her to get in, "yes mam."

As they pulled out, Beth remembered the woman and her dead children. She wished they could have buried them, or at least given them some sort of final word. That was death. Sudden and final. You expected more time to finish things, to have people there, for it all to be perfect. Then something happened and you didn't get a goodbye or a tearful send off. You were just dead and buried and forgotten. Now the dead were always looking to kill and it made it impossible to even see them for what they once were. Beth wasn't Rebecca, as much as she wished she could be. Out there, in the remote regions, where the dead were fewer and there was plenty to earth to rest them in. Here, they outnumbered you, and time spent burying them was time too precious to lose. Even now, as they drove out, Beth knew they had wasted a lot of time. They needed to find somewhere safe and the light was dying. That's when she spotted the block of apartments up ahead, surrounded by a fenced off car park. A few dead roamed the streets around them but the space around the blocks was empty. Morgan shared her thought, driving up to the open fence, cursing as he noticed the five walkers making their way toward them from the road. Beth leapt into action, darting out, rushing toward the gate, pulling it closed, ignoring the groans of the dead as she pulled off her belt, using it to tie the gate together, releasing it just as a walkers head crashed into the metal, teeth biting the links. She hurried back the fence holding. Morgan was close behind, unloading the car, taking their two bags of supplies out as he headed toward the apartment door, stacking them inside the hallway. He glanced toward Beth, surprised when he saw her pull out the arrow she kept secures to her waist, using it to stab through the heads of each walker. The sight unnerved him, her determination and fierce strength rallying his spirits as he began to work faster, lifting all the bags onto his aching back, knife in hand, calling to her.

"You check it out, I'll be there in a sec!"

He knew she would be fine but he lingered, watching her stab the final four walkers, her eyes darting around the area before they fell on him, arrow slipped back into the hook of her jeans as she ran toward him. For a moment, he saw Rick in her. The hat, the fierce look of determination, the look of a person back from the dead, determined to find their family. He didn't deserve to ever linger on how tired or weary he was, not when he had Beth. She may not like being called a saint, but she sure as hell gave him something bright and good to look toward. Taking her knife, she nodded to the stairs, turning her torch on.

"Ready?"

He took shifted the bags on his back, staring at the dark staircase before them, praying for good luck before he glanced at he.

"Light the way Beth."


	13. Chapter 13

"Dale won't be far from here, thank The Lord."

Daryl glared at the priest, making him shrink back. Scaring him always seemed to cheer him up. He deserved it. Whenever he spoke, it was always to try and make out it was by god that they could follow a map or manage to share food around. Sasha noticed and gave him a pointed look but Daryl ignored her. He ignored most people these days. Living so Clare to everyone on the damn RV made him uncomfortable. Glenn and Rick were the only tolerable men around. Carol was always busy with Judith or Tyrese, Tara kept cracking jokes to lift the mood, failing. Daryl sometimes sat at the back, near Maggie. Not because he wanted to have to sit near her, but because it was quiet. She didn't talk much and he appreciated that. Sometimes she wince and touch her swollen stomach. He'd get up to get Glenn but her warning glare kept him sitting. Wasn't his business but thinking of Beth made him feel soem sort of responsibility. Maggie may not care for his help but Beth wouldn't want him treating her like shit. As much as he wanted to tell her to suck it up and stop mourning the sister she had abandoned... He kept calm. He had faith in where they were heading. Faith in the group finding safety.

Beth had faith. Beth had hope. Beth had a way of making you see what she saw. Made you believe what she believed in. When he'd been with her, he'd caught a glimpse of what Beth Greene saw at the end of the road and it wasn't a brutal death or an unmarked grave out on the middle of nowhere. That's what he saw, sometimes, despite what people thought of him. He knew people took a look at him and saw him a certain way. Hill Billy redneck who was used to being out here, violent and wild, never staying in one place too long. He'd heard Lincoln call him something along those lines, back when he was talking about who should scout out Johnson. Rick relied on him for council, and for help surviving. No one would ever expect him to not make it. Like Beth said, he would most likely be the last man standing. Daryl knew he could be, physically it was possible. Mentally, he wasn't sure he could survive the week. His conscious was always heavy. Heavy with regrets for his past. Heavy with concern for the future of the group. Heavy with grief from everyone he'd ever lost. Most night he didn't sleep. These days, he just lay there, eyes closed, mind a blur of faces and moments he couldn't change. It was stupid, but he would go back to the start, back to when Merle first suggested going on that damn scavenge trip to Atlanta. Daryl knew he should have stopped his brother, saved him losing his hand, taken him into the Forrest to hunt squirrels with him. Changing history like that might have stopped Daryl changing for he better, but he missed his brother. He'd do anything to have him back.

Most nights he thought of the barn. The day they arrived. Walking up that wide dirt path, surrounded by fields of green, walking up to that perfect white painted house. He remembered seeing Hershel, seeing Maggie, then his eyes would fall on Beth and he felt that momentary spark every man felt when he saw a pretty blonde. Lucky Merle hadn't been with them. He wouldn't have trusted Merle around her. Daryl controlled himself, didn't care much for her and her depression. When he heard she cut her wrists, he'd remembered his own father, how he'd have beaten him bloody if he found Daryl trying to get some sympathy by cutting his wrists. Go back, he would have helped her. Let her know he wasn't a complete dick. When she'd come in that day, when he lay in bed recovering form that bullet wound, he'd have smiled, asked how she was. In the prison, he'd have approached her more. Taken Judith when he could. Beth was one of those people who did what she needed to do and didn't kick up a fuss. Didn't ask for help or look for sympathy. Always caring about someone else. Always brave.

Sleeping was painful, despite how much he needed it. Last time he slept, his vision of her were so vivid, so real, that waking up made him curse the sun and slam his fist into the nearest wall, half scaring Glenn to death. He felt bad. Doing that to Glenn. Guy was too pale lately, since Maggie's pregnancy, since she stopped functioning like a human, more walker than woman. He knew what was wrong with her, knew the guilt was hitting her hard, but he didn't sympathise. How could he? Maggie wasn't the one who went searching for Beth. Maggie just accepted she was gone.

Heading up to Dale, they were forced to abandon the RV. Gas ran out and Douglas was sure they would make it there before nightfall. Few hours on the road sounded good to him. Time to walk and clear his head, move away from the group. As they packed everything up, Daryl moved away, watching them. Michonne was, as always, offering to carry the most supplies, helping Carol with Judith. Tyrese was by Carol's side, loaded with three bags that didn't seem to affect him. For a guy on minimal rations, Daryl admired how strong he was. Tara was helping Maggie with her jacket, fixing it so the collars kept her shielded from the harsh winds cutting into them all. Glenn came beside her, helping her walk ahead, a hand on her stomach. Made Daryl feel sick, knowing Maggie might be sacrificing a child's life because she couldn't get over a person she had already let go of. Maybe he'd say something...

"Hey Daryl, want some of these?"

Looking over, he saw Abraham holding up an energy bar. One of Douglas' contributions to their food stock. Hell, Daryl was starving. Cold weather made you want more and Daryl knew they could afford to double up on portions. He shook his head. Abraham nodded knowingly, passing it on to Rosita who also refused. He hadn't been sure about them, but Daryl knew they weren't bad people. Eugene eagerly took a bar and Daryl snorted. Yeah, he was another story. Daryl hated him. Almost as much as he did that damn preacher. A man who didn't say much lately, spending time with Sasha, trying to keep hold of his bible while everyone else planned on surviving the cold. Seeing him lingering beside Eugene, Daryl grimaced. Two people he'd have left behind if he was that kind of man. The kind of man he had been.

A groan made Daryl look over his shoulder. A walker was stumbling toward him, not close but he didn't mind taking it out. Gave him something to do. The cross bow was already loaded but Daryl walked a little closer, aiming it between the walkers eyes, it's teeth bared as the arrow broke through its skull. Blood coated the arrow as Daryl retrieved it, wiping it against his trouser leg, shuddering as he felt the heat against his leg. He'd be glad when they could be somewhere that shielded them from the wind, somewhere where they could start a fire... Fire. Why did such a basic element make him think of her.

"Ready?" Rick called from behind him. Daryl didn't turn around, wiping his eyes momentarily, nodding. He sure as hell wasn't ready, but that was his life in one word. Always ready for anything, never having the time to stop and look back. Maybe that was good. Looking back would only leave him empty. Standing out here, amongst the dead, frozen in the winter cold, her name burning on his lips.

...

Nothing quiet compared to the feeling of soaking in a bath tub filled with cool water. Sure she felt as though she might turn to ice at any moment, but the water was lifting the dirt and grime and pain away and she savoured the feeling of complete and utter numbness. She was numb to pain, numb to the fear and the grief and the trauma of what she had seen. Beth slipped a little lower into the water, inhaling the soft aroma of jasmine. The apartment bath room had been well stocked with a variety of bath salts and cremes. She'd tossed them all in, saving a small bottle of something called 'new Dawn' shampoo which she slipped into her jacket for no apparent reason. It smelt better than all the scents around her but she couldn't bring herself to use it. Maybe because she wanted to save it for when she found the group. For Judith.

Morgan shuffled past, she could hear him dragging the bags into the kitchen. They'd found the apartment abandoned door wide open. Whoever left had known to take only what was necessary. It was a single bedroom apartment, and the place was still filled with someone's belongings. The bedroom filled with men's clothes and valuables, computers and books and ties. The kitchen was stripped of food but they'd found enough at the market to keep them going. Beth couldn't believe it when the water ran from the tap, clean and clear, if a little cold. Morgan was gracious enough to let her have as long as she wanted in the tub. He knew she needed time alone, though he'd been uncomfortable with how cold the water was. Luckily, with all the jumpers he'd picked up at the store, she didn't need to worry about freezing.

Dipping her head dunker the water, she watched her hair float above her, swimming amongst the foam formed by the sweet smelling cremes, the water staining her eyes and drawing her deeper. If she could remain there, submerged in the blissful serenity that the water formed around her, perhaps Beth might never resurface. Then, she did, gasping for breath, shivering as her bare back began to feel the chill in the air. Slipping out of the water and into a towel, she dried her body swiftly, eagerly getting back into her jeans and three new sweaters, the last one being a little big, the sleeves covering her icy fingers, warming hem instantly. Carefully, she took the toothbrush from the sink, a new one front he's tore, coating the brush with thick toothpaste. The moment the bristles touched her teeth, the fresh taste of mint seemed to send erotic shivers through her gums and she brushed them hard, eager to try and brighten them. Growing up, he sister always had to make her brush them. Beth would pretend she was asleep, avoid cleaning them. A childish game but she enjoyed Maggie chasing her through her bedroom with a brush waving about.

"No more Maggie," she murmured, spitting out the toothpaste remnants, holding onto the sink for support.

In the mirror, she watched herself, gazing into the face of a girl she barely knew anymore. Her scars were healing, red grazes breaking the pale skin of her cheeks. Her hair was damp and hung limply on her shoulders, longer than she'd ever kept it before. Her lip was cut deep from the store, scratches around her neck from where the woman's nails grazed her. It was as though her body were a canvas of marks left behind from every part of her new life. Every scar had a story, every graze and bruise symbolising a struggle she had survived. Glancing down, she noticed the nail marks on her ankle, the dark purple bruises to her thighs from where she'd fallen in the blood... They would fade but the memories wouldn't. Flesh heals but the mind never recovers. Sighing, she shivered, pulling down her jeans, covering the wound, slipping on her socks and boots, drying her hair carefully. She hadn't worn it in a ponytail since waking up in that coffin and it was starting to get too long, too in the way. She needed clearer vision and having an ocean of blonde hair either side of her was an unnecessary risk.

There was a box on the shelf above the toilet, covered with little boxes and bottles of perfume. It struck her as strange, a single guy in a single bedroom flat having so many nice things. Then again, she didn't know many men. Not normal ones anyway. If this was Daryl's place, she'd expect dirty dishes and moonshine and muddy boots. The bathroom would have a bar of soap maybe, the bedroom filled with his cross bow and knives and... No. No that was how Daryl had to live. If he was given a chance to be a normal man, who would he be? She knew him, knew him better than herself sometimes, and she knew deep down Daryl wasn't one to pretend to be something he wasn't. He'd always had to survive. Take that away and even Daryl would be lost. Maybe she could help him. If they found him. Help him have fun, like they had before, if they found somewhere safe.

Realising she'd been standing still, thinking of him, she shook her head, looking back to the shelf. In amongst the bottles of scents and pots of cremes, she found a small box. Inside, there were rubber bands and pins. Perfect. Typing up her almost dry hair, she smiled, her reflection a little more familiar. A little more like the old Beth. Glancing at the sink, she noticed the razor she'd taken for Morgan.

"I'm all done!" She called, opening the door. He peered round the kitchen doorway, smiling warmly as he saw her. Brighter than ever, clean and happy. He could feel soem of the stress and tension lifted from her.

He nodded to the kitchen table, "Foods ready."

She shook her head, holding up the razor, "Not till you've cleaned up."

He laughed, walking over, taking it from her, letting her leave as he glanced in the mirror. The bristles on his cheeks and chin were getting long, perfect for winter but he would prefer to feel a little more like himself. Plus, he needed to try and look clean and presentable. Wasn't fair on Beth to have to put up with a shabby man who hadn't brushed his teeth in three weeks. He knew she didn't mine, she wasn't one of those who cared about silly things like that, but he wanted to make the effort. Who knew, maybe they'd find Ricka nd his people in some nice walled off community filled with people who showered. He chuckled. They'd throw him out on sight. The thought of a sanctuary helped keep him going. Regardless of how lost he was. Where the hell was Rick? Where did they go next? What lay across the bridge?

...

Carl came walking beside him, gun in hand, shorter without the added high of his hat. The hat he'd left to Beth. Daryl knew the kid had taken a liking to her since the farm, tried to impress her when he could at the prison. How long it had been since a kid like him could enjoy the stupid things you do when your young. Now he looked stern, hardened by the violent new world. Judith was with Carol, so Carl seemed even graver. His sister kept him smiling, but now, all he knew was that they were heading toward a place that could be as hostile and as dangerous as terminus. Daryl shivered, the sun setting always brought out the cold winds that seemed to wait until nightfall.

"You okay?" Carl glanced at him, seeming confused by the question, a small frown on his lips as he understood what Daryl meant. Beth.

He shrugged, pushing back his fringe, "I'm good. You?"

"M'fine."

Daryl answered too quickly and he knew it, but Carl didn't comment. He'd seen what happens to people when guilt hit them hard. He knew Daryl blamed himself for what happened to Beth. His dad told him it wasn't Daryl's fault, that Beth stabbed the woman who'd been holding her captive, that she shot her and Beth died before their eyes. Carl had she'd a tear held onto Judith a little tighter, but he'd accepted it. Death wasn't quiet so surprising anymore. He was just glad Beth didn't come back or have a slow death. Bullet to the head. Swift and merciful. Clearing his throat, he spoke up, "Judith ain't easy to carry... I wonder how Beth managed, yknow, taking care of her all the time."

Daryl nodded. He didn't reply. He didn't want to lose himself to memories of Beth, walking with Judith, feeding her, laughing at all the new things she'd do. It hurt him and Daryl needed to be strong. He couldn't let his mind be clouded with lingering shadows of a girl he'd never known would cause him to hate himself so much. Carl just looked on at the path ahead, the silouhette of a row of houses appearing from the mist ahead.

"Beth was the type to take care of people of who needed her most. I always... Well, I always hoped maybe... It's stupid. I kinda just expected one day she'd like me the way I liked her."

Daryl let out a short laugh, amused by the boys guilty secret, shrugging his cross bow to his other shoulder, "weren't you a bit young to be likin' Beth."

Carl nodded, glancing up at the sky, breathing out a thick cloud of mist, "way I see it, that kinda stuff don't matter anymore. When you feel something, you should just... Just go for it. Maybe if your lucky, it might last."

The words hit Daryl like an arrow. Spoken from a boy so young, they seemed strange. The words were too wise, too aware of how little chance there was of having anything good these days. He agreed, of course he did, but to hear it from Carl. The boy noticed Daryl's frown and smirked, "not my words. Something I heard my mom say to Glenn, back when he was worried about getting too close to Maggie."

Made sense, but Daryl couldn't shake the words from his mind. He knew too well why they hit him so hard. What he felt with Beth, that warmth, that hope... He wouldn't find that again. That was his chance and he'd lost it. Lost her. Lost something that might have lasted him a long time. Nearing the community, Daryl slowed, running a hand through his long hair, fingers numb from the cold. Carl stood beside him, watching his dad approach. He didn't seem to notice Daryl raise a hand, ruffling his hair the way Merle would do it to him. Carl laughed and pushed him away, hair disheveled, making Daryl smirk.

Fixing his mop of hair, Carl began walking back toward Carol and Judith, voice teasing as he spoke, "My mom always said it's the tough guys that end up being suckers for love. Watch out, might be you next."

Daryl shrugged. Lori wasn't wrong. She just wasn't aware of how hard it was for a tough guy to know what that word meant. Maybe it was easy for other people, people like Maggie and Glenn and Rick, people who had good lives before all this, who didn't carry the scars of a broken life. Even if he... If he did feel anything for Beth anything like that! he'd never have admitted it. Wouldn't be able to every tell her. What did he know about feeling like that about someone. He'd never known what it meant to love anyone. He did love his mom, deep down, but her way of living, her way of ignoring him and drinking her life away... It made him hate her. His father had been the devil disguised as a drunken red neck. Merle was a lot of things, a lot of bad things, but Daryl did love him. What brother can ever truly hate his brother? Hell, Rick was up there to in his list of people he'd die for. Beth was just... Beth was the dead girl he'd never had a chance to understand. Never had a chance to look at long enough to know what that pain was. The pain he felt when he thought of her. Right by his heart. Sharper than any knife, more severe than the bullet he'd taken at the barn.

Hershel said it once. Said it when he was gardening, talking to Rick about his wife. How he sometimes wished he'd never loved anyone. How much it hurt when you lose the,. Daryl remembered something the old man had said. Something that seemed to linger in his mind lately. Attachment leads to suffering. Daryl Dixon knew, as hard as he might try to deny it, that he'd never escape his suffering. There'd always be a scar. Another scar he couldn't hide. A scar inside him, burning with a pain he couldn't block out with any drink, nor could he erase it by a others company. No, the scar would stay, always with him. Always reminding him that his pain had a name. Beth Greene

"Fog got you nervous Dixon?"Rick smiled, stopping before them, glancing at the entrance of the gate. Wide open, inviting them in, but no sign of the convoy. Daryl could read the wary thoughts in Rick's mind, his eyes scanning the collection of houses before them. A board was hammered to the nearest telephone post, fog lifting a little to reveal hastily painted letters reading 'Alpha.' Douglas joined them, smiling with genuine relief.

"Finally... They should be inside. If not, they'll be here soon. Old community hall will be warm."

Rick held out a hand, keep the man back, glancing at Daryl, "we need to scout it out."

Daryl nodded, nodding at Michonne and Tyrese.

"We got this."

...

...

Wrapped up in a blanket on one of the couches in the front room, Beth took small spoonfuls of the canned beans, wishing they might be warmer, watching the sun set through the window, the room bathed in fiery orange light. The room was cold, growing colder, but she persevered, watching the sunset with a sad smile. Deep down, she was all too aware of how far they were from finding her group. Morgan was just walking in as she began to think about Rebecca and Jess and Ben, her eyes following him as he lay down on the long couch, stretching his back, sighing in relief. He looked younger, not just because of his shave. Their was a spark to him, a renewed vigour. Beth was glad to see she wasn't the only one who had treasured the chance to get clean.

"Think we can stay here for the night?"

His question was honest, and she appreciated that he valued her opinion. Shifting so she could see him better, she nodded, placing her empty plate on the floor.

They were both weary but she knew he needed the rest, "Morgan, I want you to rest up, I'll take watch."

He frowned, glancing over at her, head resting on his arms. His eye were blood shot and edged with dark circles. Beth couldn't help but worry about him. He reminded her of her father and, like her dad, he sometimes needed to be taken care of. He seemed close to exhaustion as he spoke, "Doors barricaded up. No walkers about and gates clear. We might chance having a silent night."

Beth shook her head, uneasy with the thought, "No... I can't help but feel, back in Johnson... No, it's not the dead we have to worry about."

Morgan knew she was right. He didn't feel right leaving her to watch alone but he didn't have much choice. Sleep overcame him in seconds and Beth covered him with her blanket, exploring the apartment. The hall was getting dark so she clicked her torch on, studying the pictures on the walls. Most were of families. All of them seems to have the same man in them. As she studied more of the photos, she noticed a few of them depicted only two people. A man, young, always dressed smart, with a pretty blonde. They were in Paris, the Eiffel Tower behind them, sharing a kiss. Another showed them at a fair, her arms filled with a stuffed bear that seemed bigger than she was. The man was by her side, arm around her. Suddenly, the bathroom filled with women's products made sense. She must have stayed over, his girlfriend or fiancé maybe. The sight of their smiling faces made her sad. It had been a long while since she'd felt that way, that warm feeling of being loved by someone, of being adored and singled out as the only person they ever want to talk to. There wasn't much chance for love these days, but Beth lived in hope. She knew eventually she'd find someone... Or maybe she had found...

She glanced toward the bags in the hallway, crouching down, sifting through what they had. At the barn, when everything went bad, Maggie would do the stock check. Counting the cans and adding up how long they'd last. When they needed more, she'd just go into town, sometimes coming back with nothing, most times getting back with everything. One day, she came home with a bleeding cut on her arm, unsteady on her feet as she admitted she'd been attacked by Mr Harris, a neighbour of theirs. Daddy had rushed her to the kitchen and cleaned her wound while everyone worried. Then Maggie called Beth in, gave her a hug, and told her to look in her bag. The dead had attacked her and she'd barely made it out alive, and Maggie was only focused on seeing Beth smirk when she found a tin of sweet cherries in her bag.

Beth felt her eyes burn, vision blurred as she found the tinned cherries from the store, taking them to the kitchen, using the can opener Morgan left out to open them. Taking a heaped spoonful, she enjoyed the sweet mushy flavour, close to tears as she remembered her sister's face when she saw her eating them, in the past, back when Maggie had a pulse and Beth was still a girl. A girl who would never have killed anything in her life, who would never survive seeing dead children, who couldn't bear her mothers death let alone her entire family. Sometimes waking up to reality was the hardest part of life. Not the walkers or the threat of being attacked by men with guns, or walkers holding guns... No, Beth wasn't scared of life out there. Not anymore. It was the life in her head that threatened to destroy her. The life in her mind, the vision of people who weren't there when she woke up. Sometimes her dreams were just memories, things that had happened, places she could feel, people she longed to see again. Those weren't the hardest dreams to wake from.

She was angry when she woke up, because only in her dreams could she see them. The people she loved. The people she'd lost. Her dad. Her mom. Maggie. Judith. Rick. Carol... Beth sighed. Why did she always think like that. Why did she always try and pretend it was everyone else but him that she saw in her dreams. Apart from her sister, Daryl was the only other occupant of her dreams, always there. Sometimes, he just stood, too far for her to reach, watching her with that smoky look of discovery, the same look he'd given her at their last meal. Other times, he was behind her, telling her to keep going, to aim the cross bow higher. He'd call her Greene and she would feel that odd shiver run through her spine. Maggie would be there too, calling her, crying her name. When Beth woke up, she would be crying, or worse, she'd be burning with fiery anger, cursing the sun for rising and forcing her to be alone again.

The sound of a car broke her from her thoughts. She ran to the bedroom, glancing out of the window, ducking down as she saw a car driving down toward them. Cherry juice trickled down her chin and she wiped it, suddenly aware of how her hands shook. The car reminded her of the car that took her away from Daryl. The one driven by those cops who... She shivered and shook the thoughts away. For a moment, she considered that it might be her group, the wild hope urging her to open the window and wave to them, but she waited. Beth wasn't that naive. Not anymore. The car was black, an SUV, the back window open. She could make out the figure of a man, a rifle in his hands, his face unfamiliar. No, these weren't her friends. They kept driving, turning before they reached the gate, heading down toward the sign that signalled the upcoming bridge. Beth cursed herself. They were an easy target. The line of walkers by the fence was a clear sign of life, the car parked out in the open. Luckily these people weren't looking for them, but they would be back. They would search this place when they saw the gate. As sad as she was to abandon such a safe home, she knew it was too risky. Once the snow fell, they'd have to abandon the car. If Daryl taught her anything, it was that tracks were how people found you and killed you. They'd be back. She had that gut instinct.

Waking Morgan was necessary but she took a moment, knowing she could buy them time if she got higher, if she got a better grasp of the area. They were only one level from the roof. Silently, she headed to the door, pulling away the table against it, praying Morgan wouldn't hear her, slipping outside. The hallway was narrow, a few other flat doors leading to the stair case that led up. Taking out her knife, she darted up the stairs, ignoring the faded blood on the lower steps. The roof door was open. Carefully, she emerged into the dying sunlight, bathed in orange light, looking around. She was alone. No sign of any life, save for the car fading into the distance. There were too many building about, higher than this one. She couldn't see the bridge or very far down the road, but she saw a field close by. A school field. The school on the map. There was a high brick wall around it. American flag flying. So alike to her school, back in Georgia. Then she remembered. In her old school, they had a school radio station. Wasn't her kind of thing but she remembered how they had their own generator, Jimmy used to say it was so easy he wanted to set up his own. All he needed was some microphones, a radio antenna... Squinting in the fading sunlight, Beth could make out a long pole with beams that resembled the one jimmy had pointed out to her. It was a long shot but how many shots did they have left to take. Morgan wouldn't admit it but the trail was cold and they weren't gonna find Rick and the others by lying low here. The school might be a way of contacting wherever it was in Washington that Rick was heading. Maybe this was their chance. In the sunset, Beth stood, smiling at the newfound hope that lay just across the road. Her faith was starting to return, little by little, her pain easing as she realised she might have found a way to go home. To her group. Her family. To Daryl.


	14. Chapter 14

Tyrese didn't like this place. Too quiet. Too vacant. Moment they entered the gates, passing the sign that made Sasha shiver, he knew nothing good lay before them. Daryl walked ahead. He knew the convoy wouldn't be here. It was too simple, too merciful. He promised Carol he'd be back soon, kissed her on the cheek firmly, avoiding the dark bruises still lingering from the hospital. They didn't talk much lately, spent most of their time taking acre of Judith while Rick planned ahead, but Tyrese knew the moment they were safe, he'd tell her. He'd tell Carol how he felt. Didn't matter if she refused him, he had to tell her. A woman that strong, that brave, that fearless... Yet timid as a deer in headlights the moment someone tried to take care of her. After the Greene girl died, he'd walked Carol out and held onto her, worried about how violently she shook, how distraught she was. Tyrese liked Beth, sweet and kind, knew she meant a lot to the people who knew her well, but her death didn't hit him as hard as the others. That's why he took it upon himself to watch out for everyone. Cut back on rations, take Judith, watch Carol, guard with Daryl. Hell, he'd never known much of Daryl, but the guy had broken down and cried his heart out when he carried Beth outta the hospital. Between his tears and Maggie's screams, Tyrese barely slept a night without waking up afraid it might be Carol or Sasha next. Damn this world. Always taking away the good and making you fear losing what you couldn't live without.

"Hold up, somethin' up ahead."

Daryl's voice was wary, cross bow aimed at the house ahead. Place was full of houses, all identical, but this one had a van pulled up outside. There was blood on the window, a dent too. He knew that me at a walker had been hit. Blood wasn't dry either. A recent hit. They ducked down behind the nearest hedge, Sasha aiming the rifle at the door while Daryl studied the place, looking for signs of who might be around. Door opened and they all stared at the shadowy figure merging. When Daryl swore, Tyrese squinted, doubting what he was seeing to be true.

A walker with a gun. No. A man in a walker. Tyrese repeated Daryl's sworn oath. The man was wearing a walkers skin, the head almost like a hood, the appearance sickening. Sasha gave Daryl a questioning look but before he could answer, a bullet skimmed past them, just cutting Daryl's arm, though he didn't do much but wince. He was on his feet, hurrying them into the cover of the nearest house, his eyes darkening as he glanced over to the car. Five men emerged. All armed. All covered in walker skins. As if by santan's request, the low groan of the dead could be heard. Tyrese glanced over his shoulder, fear rising. The rest of the group were running toward them...walkers close behind.

...

The cold left her skin numb, aching, longing for a warmth that couldn't be found. Winter had fallen upon them fast and Beth was sure snow was on the way. There was already a thick frost, coating every building, blurring every window, icing every road. She stood in the car park, a hand resting on the stair rail. Morgan had already slipped, landing on his ass luckily, all too aware of Beth's giggle. The smiles soon faded when he saw the car. Buried beneath a hard frost. Morgan had been fighting to keep the engine working before the cold set it, and now, as he tried to start it, he was forced to accept that his luck was out.

Beth had woken him as night fell, warning him of the car that was scouring the area. Her idea of heading to the school didn't sound much safer, but as he commanded her to sleep till dawn, he watched the roads. No sign of any cars all night. All he did notice was how cold it was. He was breathing smoke and shivering till the sun began to rise. Beth spent most of the night beneath four blankets and even then he heard her gentle breathing interrupted by her teeth chattering. It wasn't much better by day. The wind had died down, and for that he was thankful, but he only had to glance at Beth to know the winter bite was as fierce as ever. Her pale cheeks were red with frostbite, her thin frame trembling beneath the oversize jacket she wore. Beth didn't let it show, didn't let him see her falter as she chilled to the bone. There was that steely determination in her expression, her steps firm and strong as she lifted the hood of the car. He joined her, cursing. Damn engine was dead. He knew it was hopeless to even try playing around with it but he did it anyway, for Beth.

"I'm gonna move them."

Her statement made his fingers still, holding the engine wire in mid air, frowning as she nodded toward the pile of frozen walkers by the gate. She could read the look he gave her in a heartbeat. He didn't approve but Beth wasn't in the habit of letting someone else control her. Not anymore.

Beth wasn't about to let him argue,"Let me shift them over there, behind the trash cans. They won't know we were here."

Morgan sighed, "fine but watch the road."

She nodded, already untying the gate, scanning the area around her. Desolate. A few walkers were roaming in the distance. Slower than usual. Beth had figured the weather would start slowing them down but she'd never had the chance to see her theory proven right. As if to show her how right she was, one of them turned toward her, the rattle of the gate summoning it, it's feet slipping on the frost, falling to the floor, crawling. She almost smiled. This was an advantage. Although soon enough she and Morgan would have the same struggle with the frost and cold. The Temperature was dropping by the day and soon enough they would be in the same condition as the mound of walkers by her feet.

"Great way to start the day," she muttered to herself, taking hold of the hand of the walker atop the pile, the ice covering it's body making it feel more like a snowman than a once living being. She pulled, too hard, as the hand broke off and almost caused her to fall backwards. Beth cursed under her breath, trying again, holding it's leg, straining as she pulled it along the sidewalk, dragging it behind the dumpster. The next one moved easier, a thinner female walker, already missing an arm. Beth moved another. Then another. As she moved them, she thought of Snow. He hadn't come back and that made her feel guilty. Not just for Jess. Beth herself had a love for the one eyed dog who had saved her and kept her smiling in the dark times. He wasn't around but she prayed for him to be safe. To find her, or at least find someone who could look after him.

After a few minutes, she was done, wiping her hands furiously with the rag in her pocket, looking up to Morgan, saddened to see him walking toward her, carrying their bags. The car was gone and she was sad to know they didn't have the advantage of it speed and it's safety. And it's warmth. That was what she loved about cars. Your own home on wheels. A naive sentiment she knew was misplaced these days. There was no such thing as home. Home was a permanent fixture, and nothing these days ever lasted long enough to be permanent.

Morgan was giving her a small smile, passing her a bag,"Where'd you learn that, hiding the trail. Smart thinking."

Glancing at the frost by her feet, she could almost feel the arrow in her belt weighing her down, reminding her of who she was yet to return it to. Beth was surprised by how uneven and tremulous her tone was when she answered.

"Daryl Dixon."

...

"Damn Beth, be careful."

Morgan groaned as she ignored him, climbing higher, using the uneven bricks of the wall to climb up to the top. The wall was twice as tall as he was and if she fell, he'd be in trouble. Letting her get hurt again was something he'd sworn would never happen. Beth didn't seem to notice how red and blistered her fingers were from the cold, the frost lingering on each inch of the wall having little bite to her already numb skin. As she swung her leg over the top, she was able to sit on the wall, staring down at the play field. A large empty stretch of icy concrete, leading up to a single storey building with an angle roof. There was a door in but it was closed, windows untouched, no sign of anyone ever instructing upon it. She took that as a good sign. Looking down past her feet, she sighed in relief. A sturdy metal she'd was beneath her.

"There's a way down from here. Go to the gate, I'll let you in."

He began to object but she slipped down and left him arguing with the air. As she landed on the roof, the frost caused her to slip, rolling off the edge onto the cement, unable to breath for a moment as her stomach clenched in pain. Luckily, she'd landed on her side, right arm aching but not injured. Bruised. Nothing she didn't already have marked upon her skin. Groaning, she rose, looking at the play ground. Empty. A few abandoned bikes. A basket ball hoop. Her eyes briefly lingered on the abandoned swing set. Images of her father pushing her on their swing set at the barn began to race before her, a phantom image forming in the icy mist. She asked to go higher, crying out with glee as he pushed her, lifting her up so high she would swear she was flying...

"Beth?!"

Running to the gate, she shook away the image, meeting Morgan, studying the iron gate. A chain ran between each gate, locked together from the inside. He swore under his breath but Beth wasn't willing to give up, studying the look, ignoring the complaints of her companion. It was a combination lock, and with a slight spin of the first wheel of numbers, it opened. Someone had been in a hurry and failed to jumble the numbers. Dumb luck maybe, but Beth let herself glance up at Morgan with a victorious smile. He chuckled.

"Another miracle from Saint Beth."

She rolled her eyes, taking her bag, heaving it onto her shoulders, suddenly aware of how weak she'd grown in the chill of the winter air, "Careful, might get so good I won't need you at all."

The words were accompanied by a small intake of breath, her mind suddenly forcing her backwards, back to the Forrest, a cross bow in her arms, the warmth of a friend behind her. Beth wiped her eyes suddenly, angry at herself. Of course she recognised her own words. She'd said them to Daryl before. Before she was taken. Before she lost him. As Morgan broke open the school door, Beth regretted ever considering herself able to survive alone. She sure as hell could protect herself, but the fear of being lost... She'd rather be forced back into the prison fighting off walkers and the governors men, if it meant she could be beside the people she loved. Beth Greene wasn't afraid of the dead or the living, she was afraid of being alone.

...

The hallway was littered with abandoned bags, filled with books, papers littering the floor. Lockers bore the names of their long lost owners, some open to reveal the lives of the ghosts that lingered here. Beth could feel the warmth of the place, the energy of life, the remnants of the innocence that once filled this place. Children left marks behind. Their laughter, their games, their presence. No amount of abandonment could erase what had been here before. Pictures adorned the hallways walls, changing as they advanced further down. Crayon drawings of green dogs and pink castles changed to early stories and winning paintings. Eventually she came across some photos. Boys and girls, younger than she was, smiling for the camera. Something unnerved her, something in their happy faces and shining eyes. She wondered if they ever had an idea of what was coming. Had they been as clueless as she had been. Did they think the fun and love and light would last forever?

"Careful."

Morgan mumbled as she neared a heap of chairs, broken and splintered, as though someone had broken them on purpose. For what reason, she didn't know, but a lot of the chair legs were missing. Looking up, she neared the first class room whose door didn't have a window to look through. Easing it open, she flashed her light inside. The blinds were drawn, desks lined up ready for students who would never come, the white board still bearing the remnants of a lesson long since taught. Math. Beth smiled sadly. Her worst subject and yet she missed it. Morgan walked in, sifting through the desk. It almost felt wrong, looking through the class, scavenging for supplies. It shouldn't feel any different from when she looted the gas station or the apartment, but here, amongst children's books and stationary and abandoned book bags, it felt cruel. It felt like stealing.

Morgan was trying to ignore every sign of what the room had once been, ignoring the fact that his own son's class had been almost identical to this one. He'd come here to get him. He'd come here for parent teacher meetings. Jenny would always be by his side, his boy eager to leave his friends and run to his parents... Pain. Morgan swiftly walked out of the room, unable to stand the sharp pain rupturing through his chest. Beth noticed but left him to deal with whatever he felt. She knew too well Morgan wasn't one to find comfort on discussing his feelings. Carefully, she walked through the desks, glancing at the window. However these kids got out, it wasn't by the window. In fact, the dead hadn't even attacked is place, thanks to the wall. Thirty desks, theory children who might be out there, living, safe. Maybe they all got out and were safely living in whatever sanctuary Rick was heading to. The thought helped her move on from the class, closing the door carefully, remembering how she'd done so in her school, her teacher hating the commotion a slammed door made. The memory made her sigh but she pressed on, catching up to Morgan as he headed to the double doors that must have lead to the hall. Even before they took hold of the door handles, the soft cries of the dead could be heard, muffled and feint but there.

The room was dark, windows covered by heavy curtains, the only light source being her torch. As she let it roam the room, the light caught sight of something on the floor close by her. A white bundle, shuffling, swaying as muffled cries came from inside. It took Beth a moment to realise it was a walker. A small walker. A child. Wrapped in dirty, blood stained cloth, bound so tight it couldn't move. A piece of wood penetrated the shuddering bundle, keeping it anchored. Beth felt nauseous, remembering why it seemed so strange for the chairs to be missing legs. Legs. Plural. Taking an unsteady breath, she let the light hit the floor, a strangled sob escaping from her as she saw how many small bodies lay before her. Her eyes watered and made counting hard but she knew from how carefully the rows were set out that there were thirty. Thirty exactly.

Morgan didn't speak, he just covered his eyes, rubbing them, as though trying to wipe the image away, gods name on his lips. She slipped her hands into his and he squeezed it hard, cold fingertips biting her palm. Then, he began to walk in, retrieving a match packet from his jacket as Beth stood rooted to the spot, alone, lost. Carefully, she walked toward the closest bundle. A name was written across the cloth in marker. Clary Hewitt. She glanced at the body beside her. The name was a little less clear. Timothy Miller. The size of their bodies made it hard to look on them. Her mind begged her to move away and run, run far and never look back... But she knew what needed to be done. As Morgan lit the candles lying around the room, Beth retrieved her knife, hesitating.

"What the hell?!"

Morgans breathless exclamation made her dart up, staring at him, following so lone of vision to the heightened stage... Where there hung a woman. A rope tied to the rafters above holding her, noose right around her neck, her eyes grey, mouth open and releasing a weak groan. She wore a nuns dress, a crucifix around her neck, prayer beads tied to her limp wrist. Beth didn't want to piece together whatever story lay behind the hanging woman and her children. The images of the dead children at the store resurfacing, her hand pressed to her temples as she tried to push back her human reactions to the horror around her, trying to force herself to be strong and impervious to what lay by her feet. Morgan walked up to the stage, standing on the stool that was kicked to the side of the hanging woman, balancing on top of it as he cut her free. The harsh thud of her body hitting the wood made him wince, silencing her gasps quickly with his knife.

Morgan saw Beth and worried, his own stomach turning as his eyes took in the tragedy that they had entered, his voice gentle as he spoke to Beth, "We should go."

She shook her head and he knew she wasn't going to let this go. Just like at the store. It was Beth who insisted she put the dead to peace. Just like Rebecca would have. Morgan knew deep down, if his boy had been left like this, he'd want him to be put out of his misery as soon as possible. Beth was right and as strong as she could be, he didn't want to hear her mutter the names of these children in her nightmares. It wasn't fair that someone so you ga and good and lost should be haunted by the sins of others. Carefully, he held out a hand, nodding to her knife. She shook her head with a small smile.

"We do it together."

He wanted to stop her but he just watched as she approached the first bundled body. Beth read the name aloud. Clary Hewitt. Tearing the cloth, careful to avoid the mouth region, she looked on the grey face of a small girl, barely eight years old, her eyes black, her blonde hair coated with dried blood. Clary gasped, too hungry and weak to make much notice, teeth biting the air as Beth looked at her, whispering a good bye before she lodged her pulled out the arrow from beneath her jacket, striking it between the girl eyes. The child's face froze, vacant, Beth's fingers slowly closing her open eyes. Around the girls neck was a necklace, a silver chain on which a small pair of angels wings were attached. Beth blinked tears away, thinking of Daryl. Is this how he felt when they buried her? Is this what he saw?

There was a piano, tucked away in the corner. Morgan had seen it too, watching her eyes it for a moment before continuing down the line of bodies. Beth was pale, jacket hanging of her thin frame, bloodied knife in hand. Yet Morgan could help but see her in her true form. Standing over the lost children, hair more gold than any halo, blue eyes shining out from the dark, sending the dead to a better place. Maybe he was just light headed from the cold or desperately seeking some divinity in the girl who was having to jam a knife into the heads of undead children. Either way, he couldn't stand to watch anymore. It hurt him to see her so sad. Carrying a candle over to the piano, he wiped some of the dust away, tapping a key, startling Beth as the sound echoed. Her eyes were wide as she looked over at him, skin so pale in the candle light.

"Play."

His one word was enough, his tone pleading yet firm. She silently handed him the knife, sitting on the stool, searching. Her mind for the right song. Gazing at the white bodies, she remembered the day she visited her mothers grave. Alone. Lost. Ready to leave the world and escape all the pain and fear. No one came to console her, no one sang a song for her or reminded her of heaven. Beth had stood there, staring at the grave, humming her own song for the moment. A song that had been on the radio when Shawn drove her home from school one summer, changing it swiftly when he complained it was too damn depressing. A sad song no one in her family liked hearing. Except for Beth. Remembering the lyrics, she started to play the opening on the piano, her mind filled with the faces of every good person she'd lost. Her mom. Her dad. Shawn. Maggie. Patricia. Otis. The store children. The children on the floor. As her voice filled the room, Beth closed her eyes and tried to put her mind somewhere else. Somewhere warm and safe where she was happy. In her mind, she was at Rebecca's house, with Jess, with Daryl, with Morgan. The lyrics flowed from her lips and with every word she felt closer to home.

'I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?

It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah.'

Morgan had to stop his knife from striking another skull, collapsing to his knees as he heard the song, felt it resonate within him, breaking ever wall he'd ever built between himself and his grief. He could see them, Jenny, Dwayne. Standing by Beth, smiling at him, the song bringing all sorts of spirits back to his life. He swore he felt his moms hand on his shoulder. His fathers voice calling him from afar. Morgan closed his eyes. It was all he could do to stop himself from breaking down, right there, lost to an angels song. He wished she might stop and yet willed for her to go on. The pain mixed with bliss and he found himself frozen, fixated on the light of the nearest candle. Joyous memories flickered in the flame. The many birthday candles he'd blown out. The fires he'd lit on those winter evenings with his wife. The sun burning down on him as he took Dwayne to the park for soccer try outs. Despite the chill in the air, he felt warm, and he knew it was by some magic cast by Beth's voice, which grew stronger and more passionate with each verse.

'Baby I have been here before

I know this room, I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah..."

Her voice faded and she played the rest of the song on the piano, unaware of how she had broken him apart with her voice, the word hallelujah echoing in his mind. Morgan swiftly finished his task, carefully saying the name of the last child, knowing he would never forget this moment however hard he might try. The boy cried out as he broke through his skull, eyes wide open, staring up at his killer. No. No, he hadn't killed the boy. He ended his misery. He killed what came after. The thing that took over your body. Isn't that what he told himself when he'd shot a bullet through Jenny's head. He shuddered, breathing into his hand as the room fell silent. Beth glanced toward him, smiling through tears. He smiled back, proud of her, building up his walls again. He wanted to say so much to her. Thank her for giving him a moment to feel again. Cry out to her, begging she never make him break apart the armour he'd contoured around his soul. Instead, he just smiled.

"Good song, kid."


	15. Chapter 15

Dale community was a small place. A dozen rows of identical white washed houses boasting four bedrooms and perfectly kept gardens. Well, they were that way once. A neighbourhood built for well off citizens who wanted some peace, away from the city. Dale was one of those places the dead never got too close too. Everyone who ever lived there drove away to Atlanta after the government declared it a safe zone. Walkers didn't wander much around a place so silent and empty. When survivors stumbled across Dale, it became a safe zone for a while. A base for them to stop and breathe and plan ahead. A few months they stayed, then the dead started noticing and they abandoned Dale. Alexandria was their next stop and that's where they made the safe zone. Seeing it all now, Douglas couldn't quiet remember how they'd ever thought the community was a good idea. Running from the walkers that pursued them, close behind Rick and Michonne, a crying baby in her arms, he didn't dare glance back at the groaning undead. Running through the entrance gate, he cursed his people. Cursed them for not being here. A gunshot had summoned the walkers and he knew, in his bones, that whoever was here wasn't friendly. The whisperers most likely. Hiding here while they planned another way of attacking Alexandria. Bastards last attack didn't do much damage but he'd lost some friends in the process of keep ingot he walkers from getting past their defences. Abe, Daniel, Jack. All good men lost because of a group of thugs wearing walker skins. He could almost smell them up ahead. The air was cold but something was rotting. Not just the walkers behind them. He hadn't mentioned to Rick about the whisperers tendency to skin their kills and now he was starting to regret keeping secrets. Behind them, Tara and Noah were racing forward.

Noah struggled to keep up, thankful for Carol watching the back, shooting a few walkers who got too close. His leg ached and he was afraid it might just give up and buckle at any moment but he kept going. He wouldn't give up. He'd lost too much and seen too many fall prey to the dead. Today wasn't gonna be the day he let himself give up. Glancing ahead, he saw Rick aiming his rifle at something, shooting before ducking down, a bullet flying last him. Whatever they were running into, it couldn't be any worse than what lay behind.

...

"You got it?"

Beth waited for Morgan to answer her call, leaning over the staircase railings, knife in hand. He'd been down in the basement room a long while. They'd left the hall hours ago but finding the radio room wasn't easy. Most doors were locked, others leading onto rooms that were empty of anything helpful. They hadn't planned on staying here long but it didn't seem like they had much choice. Beth wanted to go down there with him and scout the room below but he wanted her here. She could see the front doors and keep an eye out for any unwanted intruders.

"Damn generator is dead, needs a new belt."

She sighed in relief as he emerged from the room, a torch in one hand, a broken belt in the other. Beth knew enough about generators to know they wouldn't get far without a belt. Shawn showed her how to start one up and what parts it needed to keep going. The farm used some old generators in emergencies. Storms, power cuts. A belt was simple enough to replace but finding gone was gonna be easy. Besides, this one was shorter than most. It was made for a certain type of generator.

"The shed out back, it's gotta be full of tools and spare stuff. I'll be careful."

Beth didn't wait for a reply, knife in hand as she walked toward the double doors, eyes skimming past the empty class rooms, half expecting them to be filled with the ghost children whose names she had spoken. The cold air was almost a relief as she emerged into the cold, ice crunching under her boots as she made her way to the small building she'd fallen off earlier that day. The gate was still locked, and through it she spied a few walkers aimlessly roaming about, skin almost blue from the ice settling on them. It occurred to her that maybe they might die, for good, if the ice got into them and the starvation was severe enough. A crazy, wishful thought that seemed too easy, but she didn't let herself dismiss how slow and weak they were now the summer had finally died away. Reaching the splintered wooden door of the structure clearly meant for storage, she glanced at the lock, jamming her knife between the wood and the mechanism. It broke easily. The door wasn't made for withstanding much force. Who ever broke into a storage room full of school supplies.

Wandering in, she knew her task wouldn't be easy. There were a dozen tool cabinets. A wide plywood table in the centre covered with cans of paint and old wood. The walls were adorned with spare bike wheels and sports equipment. She started at the tool cabinets, already losing some of her drive as she stared into a drawer of mismatched tools and screws. Whoever owned this place didn't do much to organise it. Not like Shawn had. Beth bit her lip. It had been a while since she though of him like that. As though he were still there, in her life, alive and safe. Her big brother. Shawn always wanted her to know about that kind of stuff. About tools and farming and how to work things out. They used to sort out her dad's tools when she was young and there wasn't much to do, or when he came back from college for summer break, they would go fishing or camping. Shawn didn't like her being helpless. He also hated all the high school stories she'd tell him. Any mention of a boy or going someplace out of Georgia would trigger his overprotective streak. It had annoyed her once but now, she appreciated what it meant, worrying about someone you loved. When Shawn was gone, Maggie stepped up and took his place, but no one could replace her brother. He was the only one who listened to her. Who really knew her. He wanted her to be strong and smart. Didn't want his baby sister to ever depend on other people, or depend on the world working perfectly. Beth wished he'd made it. A guy like Shawn would have done well living like this. He'd have the generator fixed in a heartbeat. She could sure use him now. With a sigh, she let her mind linger on his face, the last time she saw him, before he got bit. Smiling, wearing that stupid old baseball cap her mom kept trying to toss in the trash. Another ghost lingering in her conscious. Searching the tool cabinet, she could almost hear him, laughing at her when she didn't know the difference between a wrench and a spanner.

"Come on Beth, can't be a princess all your life."

There wasn't anything in the drawers that would help Morgan. She took a spanner, just in case, but without a belt they didn't have much of a chance. The back wall was lined with shelves, filled mostly with balls and sports equipment. The baseball bags were plastic and she doubted they'd be of any use. Past some old tyres, she stumbled on a box and cursed as a rain of screws fell on top of her, rattling as they struck the floor. Exasperated, she lent against the centre table, pushing away pots of paint and glue, surveying the surface. Knowing her luck, supplies for a back up generator weren't even kept here. Maybe they were sent in when needed. Maybe they'd come here for nothing.

"Have a little faith, Greene," she murmured to herself. There was no reason for her to think of him, but in her thoughts, she suddenly thought of Daryl. If he was here, he wouldn't give up so easily. He knew mechanics a lot better than she did, always tinkering with his bike back at the prison, but thinking of him, here, searching alongside her, helped. The reassurance of that thought scared her, unable to understand how remembering him always made things easier, but she wasn't willing to question herself. She had a job to do. Crawling under the table, she pulled at the crate she'd spied earlier, sifting through it carefully. It was full of bags, labelled with names she didn't recognise, till she lifted a bag labelled V-belt.

"Please, please," she whispered, tearing open the plastic, a long black belt falling out onto her lap. She almost wept with relief, rushing to the door, bursting into a run as her boots gripped the rough surface of the play ground. It was a long shot but she felt hopeful. She let herself feel hopeful. The sun was just staring to escape the clouds above and she could almost feel it's burning into her. Fiery and warm like those days gone by.

Colliding with the front doors, she ran down the hallway, avoiding the degree as she reached Morgan, beaming at him. His eyes widened as he saw her, standing from his place on the stairs, a half open tin in his hands. Heaving, she handed him the belt, taking a few more deeper breaths before she spoke.

"It's... It's a v-belt...is that...ok?"

He looked grim, studying it, taking the spanner she handed him with a shrug, "only one way to find out."

...

When they reached the gate, Tara helped Carol close it behind them, swearing as the priest and Douglas ran to cover, her fingers almost bitten by the first walker to strike the gate, teeth cracking against the metal bars. Noah tried to find some way of barricading the gate but it was hopeless. More gun fire began to go off and Noah took hold of Tara, forcing her to duck down, bullets hitting the walkers who were closest to the gate. Tara groaned, seeing a fresh wave of walkers closing in, wishing she'd taken a gun from a Rick.

Rick couldn't focus on the gate. One of the gun men emerged from behind a fence, aiming, just missing him. He ran toward him, striking him down with the butt of his rifle, shooting him in the skull. The man looked like a walker, wearing a second skin, his face smeared with black blood. Running back, he took hold of Carl's arm, warning him to stay close to Michonne who was holding a gun while trying to calm Judith. They headed toward the nearest house. Rick reloaded his rifle, watching them get in. Then his attention drew back to Daryl. He'd disappeared with Tyrese and Sasha but the shot they'd heard might have taken one of them out, or at least injured them. Leaving Glenn and Abraham to cover him, he darted toward the garden of the closest house, a rain of gunfire splintering the wood of the gate as he flew over it, falling to the grass , startled when strong arms pulled him to cover. It was Daryl, his arm bleeding, though his expression was stony and focused. Rick knew the bullet hadn't hit deep.

"Bastards got us outnumbered. Load of 'em in the house..."

Rick cut him off, "we got a hoard coming through. Something drove em toward us."

Daryl groaned inwardly, trying to catch site of the gate, startled when he saw Noah and Tara failing to hold it back. Luckily, Abraham and Rosita joined them, but it would hold. Risk was, anyone who went running to the gate would be taken out by the bastards across the road. Swiftly, he climbed up the decking and onto the low roof of the house, not waiting to hear what anybody thought of the situation, running up the slanted tiling, gripping the gutter of the top roof. From here, he was still covered. More shots were fired, a scream from far off telling him someone on his side had taken out one of them. Holding his breath, he pulled himself up, using the drain as a footing, peering over the top, high enough to see what was going on. The house across the way had two shooters in the tops windows. The sick bastards wearing walker skins were by the car, reloading. Semi automatic guns. He wasn't sure they could match that kind of fire power. Aiming his gun, he focused on the shooter in the window, lining up the shot, firing. The guy fell back, shot to the head. Daryl almost let himself feel relieved but when another gun man came to the window, he realised they weren't dealing with a small group. House must be full of them.

"Burn it down."

The wind was blowing wildly and he knew somehow it was carrying her voice back from the past. Her voice. Beth. Smartest idea he could come up with. A fire would distract them. Give them time to get their people into the house and out of the walkers way. He called down to Rick, almost slipping from the roof as he saw he was already behind him.

"We get that car of theirs lit..."

Rick nodded, wiping blood from his lip. Glenn was close behind, breathing hard, gun swung over his shoulder, "we got everyone inside...they... They got Eugene."

A moment wasn't spared to mourn the loss. Daryl couldn't remember the guy much and Rick was already absorbed in how close the walker heard was. Someone had jammed the gate shut with an iron rod but it wouldn't hold. They had to be quick. They had a few minutes before the house would become surrounded by the dead and those wearing their skins.

"Rick! Catch!"

Abraham's voice rang out. Spinning round, almost loosing his footing, Rick the bag, opening it to find a single grenade. Abraham smiled as he reloaded his gun, "I gotta find Rosita, use them well."

Something in his voice was final. As though he were giving them some wise words before he left them for good. Rick noticed and wanted to call him back but Abraham was gone and the deafening roar of gunfire left him with no choice but to move ahead with the plan. Counting the grenades, he glanced at Daryl.

"We got three, think you can get them on target from here."

Daryl nodded. He'd taken a tank out at the prison. This wasn't much difference. As long as they didn't spot him. Rick and Glenn left, joining Tyrese and Sasha, firing at the walkers. A loud crash from below told Daryl some of the thugs had gotten in, but he willed himself to keep focused. Michonne and Carol could handle it. At least till he got this done. His breath slowed, peering over the roof, studying the house. Some of them were by the car, pulling out more guns. Pulling the pin from the grenade, he held it back, tossing it over. If he were a man of god, he'd have thanked the heavens, but Daryl knew it was dumb luck that the grenade hit the pavement and rolled under the car. He ducked down. Three. Two. One.

The explosion left him deaf for a moment, wincing as the sound resonated through his skull. The heat warmed the air, the fire setting the world alight for a second. He saw pieces of wood and degree fly over the roof.

"Hell Yeah!" Glenn yelled and Daryl knew without looking over that they had evened the odds. When he saw what was left of the house, his eyes widened. The damn thing was collapsing, wood splinters everywhere. The car must have been loaded with more than just guns. He didn't have long to linger on the fiery ashes before him, the sound of metal giving way behind him urged him back, the walker hoard double the size it had been. Gun fire. Cries. Groans. A woman's scream. Daryl knew the sounds too well and leapt from the roof, knowing too well they wouldn't all make it out of this.

...

Morgan couldn't bring himself to look at her. An hour had passed and still he couldn't let himself look up and face her disappointment. Beth hadn't said much, but he knew she was taking this worse than he had. Moment he put the damn belt in, one thing rattled and it had blown in his face, steaming and hissing. Days like this he wished he'd paid more attention to his dad. Man owned a used car establishment and yet Morgan knew little about engines. He could just about change a flat tyre. When it had died, he'd kicked it hard and cursed, using a few words he'd never repeated since high school. Truth was, the situation was getting to him. Being in a school full of dead children, praying they wouldn't be found by the people Beth had seen patrolling the roads, every day getting further away from finding Rick. It wasn't like before, when he'd had markers, or painted words on wooden boards. The trail had ended and they were at risk of never making it. It was getting colder by the day, food was running low, and he wasn't sure he could stay sane sleeping with the smell of decaying flesh invading the air he breathed. He raised his eyes, catching sight of her frown, gut clenching as he saw how she was resting her chin on her knees, staring into the weak fire he'd been forced to light. the spare wood in the hallways had come in handy, but he didn't want too much light to show. Just in case the car came by again. God he missed having a car. Missed that security, that safety. Having that last resort if things got too bad. Drive away and move on.

"Some days, I just don't know what to think."

Morgan was inadvertently speaking his mind, eyes tracing the outline of the mound of bodies behind her. The fire was burning bright enough for him to see some of the names. Not that he needed to be reminded of them. They were carved into his memory. When Beth looked up at him, he realised he'd spoken the words aloud instead of thinking them. He was about to explain but she already understood their meaning, her small shoulders dropping slightly as she let out a shuddering breath. Beth didn't need to see the bodies, she felt them, weighing down on her heart. Her voice was steady, almost calm, "Best not to think. Just keep goin' and take what comes."

He nodded. Of course she was right but it didn't make things any easier. She hadn't let much show since the generator blew, but he could read the disappointment in her pale face. The loss of hope. It tore him apart and he loathed himself for ever failing her. He looked at the bodies again, wondering how he'd ever had the stomach to do what he'd down. To end them... He shivered. Without needing to look over at him, she spoke again, voice lower, all too aware of Morgan's stare.

"Its how the world is now. We did what we had to do... I was always too scared to do what needed to be done... I was so lost, when the prison fell and daddy died... Just a stupid kid who didn't know her place. I used to wonder, how the hell did I make it when stronger people didn't... For a while, I just lost myself."

He sighed, tearing open a packet of jerky, wishing the dog was here to distract her, make her laugh, "so did I... When my boy died. I know how that feels...How'd you find your way back?"

Beth raised her eyes to his, fire reflecting in her irises, her soul burning before him, her scars a deep red, "Day I had my first drink, it was also the day I finally understood just how bad a world it was... And how, no matter how dark it is out there, good people still survive. You had to be strong but you didn't have to be a monster... I wouldn't have know that without Daryl. He was everything I wanted to be and yet deep down... Deep down we were the same. Lost kids with no families, no future... Alone. He showed me how to be strong, that it didn't matter about who you were before. If I didn't let my last define me, I could be strong.. And in a way, I think I am."

There was something in her words. In the way she mentioned Daryl. In the way she declared her strength. Somehow, she felt as though something had changed, deep within her. The remnants of her doubts and weaknesses burnt away by the fire before her. Morgan saw it. Saw her breathe in and banish her doubts. As silence fell, she wiped her eyes, remembering something Andrea told her, "The pain doesn't go away. You just make room for it."

Morgan suddenly didn't feel defeated. Hell, he'd let life screw him over too many times. He'd be damned if her let her suffer the way he had. Her words rallied his spirits. He sprung to his feet, spanner in hand, suddenly angry with his own willingness to give up so easy.

"I'm gonna have another go at the generator. You start on the food. I promised I'd get you home Beth, and I mean to keep that promise."

...

Carol heard the explosion, heard the front windows shatter, felt the heat surge through the house, but she didn't move from where she stood, by the door, gun raised, ready. Much one had helped her barricade the entrance with a heavy oak shelving unit but if the dead were coming, it wouldn't be enough. She saw how many there were. Judith cried and Carl tried to calm her down, sitting with Michonne, the gun in his hand gripped securely. Carol worried about everyone else. Glenn shouted for them to deal themselves in, staying in the kitchen, avoiding the front of the house where they'd be easy target for the gun men across the road. Somehow, carol doubted there'd be any of them left after the explosion but the groans of the dead soon kept her focused.

Maggie lingered in the hall, still pale and confused, but she was searching for a safer place. Carol heard her mumbling Glenn's name continuously. A week ago she might have found such behaviour frustrating, but since the hospital, since she was back amongst friends, she understood what it meant to care. In her mind, she cared too much. Tyrese. Rick. Daryl. They were all out there, along with the others. She hadn't seen Tyrese when she got in. That scared her but she remained in control. That wasn't who she was. Scared, emotional, anxious. Carol had a duty and shed be damned if she let Judith or Carl fall prey to the dead. Not again.

The door pounded, the groans of the dead warning her of who was knocking, the gunfire outside forcing her to duck down. She heard a scream, followed by a pained cry from... Glenn?! Carol turned, catching Maggie, holding her back as she tried to run to the door.

"We got people to protect!"

Maggie heard her and let out a strangled sob before she nodded, struggling less, pointing a shaking hand at the hall.

"the...the stairs. It's clear."

Michonne took the children with her to safety, while Maggie and Carol covered the door, pushing the shelf as the door began to open. Straining, Carol tried to see through the small gap in the door, eyes wide as she saw a walker reaching in, it's skull caught between the door and the frame, black blood spluttering from its mouth. They pushed harder, Maggie's eyes closed as she have all her strength, the crack of the walkers head urging her to keep going.

"Rosita!"

Abrahams horrified cry made Carol flinch. More gunfire followed. She prayed Tyrese was safe. Glancing at Maggie, she rested a hand on the girls heaving shoulders, forcing a reassuring smile. Suddenly, the door ceased to move and they stopped pushing, the commotion outside seeming to have ceased. Hurrying to the kitchen, Carol peered out the window, pushing away the wooden boards that had been hiding it away. Outside, she saw Rick and Daryl hunched over, breathing hard, Sasha nearby wiping blood from her lip. Alarmed, Carol hurried to the door, clawing back the shelf, rushing outside. She was about to ask what happend when she saw the bodies on the ground. Walkers surrounded them, their bodies curled into each other. Abraham and Rosita. To her shock, Rosita was still breathing, her bare arm bloody, a deep bite visable. The girl shook as she lay a hand on the face of her dead lover, years swimming in her eyes, her voice wavering as she spoke to Glenn who was crouched by them.

"All he wanted was to make a difference... And he did. Don't... Don't let him be forgotten."

Glenn winced, nodding, pressing a gun in her outstretched hand. She smiled at him, eyes closed as she held it to her temple, sobbing as she pulled the trigger. Daryl watched, wincing in pain as he looked away, unable to see them lying there, together, gone. Abraham had run out to his girl, saw her bit, gunning down most of the hoard, taking a stray bullet to the head for her.

Carol raised a hand to her mouth, trying to tear her eyes away from them.

Rick darted inside to find his children, the rest grieving their loss and recovering from the shock of the past hour. Abraham wasn't their only hero. Beside Rosita lay Tara, her head on Noah's lap, eyes wide open, empty, his fingers shaking as he closed her eyelids, resting a hand on her forehead. He had been sure he was dead when a man with a gun aimed for him, Tara rushing in front of him, a bullet splintering through her head. Rick had taken the guy down but Noah was left cradling his saviour. He had caused two girls to die for him, both refusing to let him die, and all he could do was watch them fall. Glenn was close by, wiping his eyes, mourning the loss of his friends, vision blurred as he looked to the house, catching sight of Maggie running to him, arms wrapped tightly around him as she shook.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I love you..."

Her words eased him back from grief, his arms still tightly wound around her as they both looked down on their fallen friends. The father emerged from his place by the porch, bible clutched to his chest, offering to say some words but he soon say in silence as Daryl glared at him.

"Where's Tyrese?" Carol's voice was edged with panic, but Sasha smiled weakly at her, pointing over to the gate where Eugene was with her brother and Douglas, barricading the way. Carol ran over, embracing Tyrese, his arms tightly woven round her, asking about Judith. As they all regrouped, Daryl stared at the fire across the road, watching it burn, shivering as the wind blew hard. A single snowflake fell before his eyes, closely followed by another. He stopped, watching them fall. Had been a while since he'd seen snow.

"The convoy! It's here!"

He turned, seeing Douglas throw open the gates, two large jeeps driving by. Relief was what he should have felt, but somehow, Daryl wasn't so keen to trust anyone. There were good people out there, must be, but he'd not met many lately. The doors opened, a man and woman hurrying over, carrying first aid kits. Daryl pulled his shirt so it covered the bullet graze. He wasn't one for letting himself appear weak. Not to strangers. Rick emerged from the house with Judith held close to his chest, her eyes red from crying, followed by Carl and Michonne. They went ahead to talk with the new comers, as did most of the others, while he lingered back with Glenn and Maggie, staring at the dead. Felt wrong watching them, seeing Abraham and Rosita curled up together. Whatever Daryl had failed to learn about him, he respected him. Laying down his life to save a dead girl. Dying for her even when she was bit. Maybe he'd done it on purpose. Maybe life's not worth living if you lose the person you love.

Daryl shook his head, walking away, standing at the gate, snow kissing his hands as he leaned against the wall. He studied the road, saw how desolate it was. He'd spent his life on the move, never settling, always leaving for someplace else. Not just because of Merle. He had that kind of soul that never settled. Never had a reason to.

His train of thought was shattered by a white object racing towards him, moving fast on four legs. His mouth dropped open, unable to believe what he was seeing. It wasn't till the dog was putting his paws up on Daryl's chest and howling that he believed he was seeing the one eyed creature. The jeeps started up and a Rick called out to him but Daryl was preoccupied, crouching down, scratching the dogs head, smiling to himself.

"You are a tough lil' bastard."

...

Beth jumped as a mouse darted by her foot. Morgan smirked. For a girl who could knife a dozen walkers without breaking a sweat, she sure as hell didn't like little critters. He'd said as much when he he brought her down here to help him with the generator. Moment she saw the mice darting about in her torchlight, her back had tensed and he'd laughed. Luckily, having her focus the light on the generator kept her from jumping about. Beth was more comfortable down here with him, helping. The room was dark, the generator tucked in the corner, hooked up to a wall of radios and wierd screens. She'd never been a big AV fan in school but Morgan was sure he'd have some idea of how to use it.

"In my day, I'd record song from the radio, make my sister mix tapes," he explained, words muffled by the spanner in his mouth as he tightened the bolt on the fan. She smiled. Resisting the impulse to make a caveman joke. She'd always wished she could have been born in an older age. Back when songs were on records and music was a way of life. Maggie used to call her a damn hippie when she told her that. Maggie was always teasing. Always making jokes and keeping Beth smiling. She missed her. Morgan took the torch, leaving her without much to do. Remembering her abandoned meal, she darted out of the roof, reviewing the tin from her bag, scooping a final spoonful of cold beans. Beth dropped her can by the door, a few beans lingering in the bottom, knowing too well the mice here would be starved for food.

"Well I'll be damned," Morgan murdered, pulling out a long rod of metal from somewhere in the mechanical matrix of the generator, turning the switch, the belt turning. The machine spluttered into life and Beth threw her arms around Morgans neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek, relief flooding through them both.

"You did it!"

Stunned by his own mechanical prowess, he hurried to the wall of radios, turning up the volume, the sound of static almost too reassuring. Tuning it, he began searching for a signal, looking at Beth with urgency, "see of there's any recording equipment over there."

She did as she was told, searching the boxes behind them. The room was narrow and the boxes were stacked on top of each other but she pulled them out and sifted through cables and tapes. The static continued, and for those few minutes, Beth felt breathless, nervous, unable to speak in case they missed a signal. Then, as Morgan turned the dial to its furthest point, voices could be heard. Interrupted and feint but voices nonetheless.

"On our way... Got group... Dale Community... Grimes... Whisperers attacked... Dead..."

The transition ended and Beth but her lip, trying to contain the flood of emotions rising within her. Morgan's hand was frozen, unable to leave the dial. He saw Beth, crouched on the ground, still as stone, tense. He wanted to reassure her her but what could he say? They had a destination. Dale community. Who was reporting in what happens there was a mystery but what other leads did they have. Where else could they go?

Beth swallowed the fear, replaying the message in her mind. They couldn't be dead. Not all of them. She wouldn't believe it. Half of the signal had been lost and the words between those they'd heard could make its meaning a lot less dire. No, she wasn't about to let herself give in to blind panic. Rick Grimes might be alive still, and the group could be aswell. Daryl couldn't be dead. She meant it when she said he'd be the last man standing. Turning around, she stood before Morgan, expression fiery and firm, "we gotta go to Dale. They aren't dead. I know it."

He didn't want to feed her baseless belief but deep down, he didn't believe it either. Stupid and illogical as it was, he didn't believe Rick Grimes was gone. He nodded, swallowing the words he'd intended to say, words of comfort for her loss. Instead, he pulled the map from his pocket, finding Dale, her light focused on the small marker.

"We cross the bridge, find a car... Shouldn't take us more than a few days if we beat the snow."

Beth nodded, turning away, pulling the arrow from her belt, walking over to where she'd left the empty can, thrusting the spear inside of it. A short squeak followed the sharp jab. Glancing up at Morgan, she smiled, "I hate mice but I hear they taste better than snake."

...

Snow. Not too deep that it would cause them an issue when they found a car but it was colder than he ever remembered. Morgan's teeth chattered audibly as he took his first step out the door, wincing his trousers failed to provide any obstacle for the frigid bite of the snow. They'd spent so long indoors, so absorbed in their preparations to find Rick, that any thought of mother natures fury had been forgotten. He was glad to have warm meat in his stomach. The mouse had been small but paired with their last tin of corn, it was almost enjoyable, save for the few pieces of matted hair he'd fished from his teeth. Beth apologised, explaining skinning wasn't something she was well trained with, but he silenced her. The girl had a big heart but the meal she prepared him was a miracle, especially when they had a long walk ahead in the bitter chill of winter. Beth came to his side, smiling despite the blast of wind that chilled her bones.

"Looks like a Christmas card."

Her tone was childish and innocent, a rare insight into how young she was, and Morgan laughed, resting a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

"Bridge won't be far. Sure your ready?"

She nodded, walking into the snow, not reacting to how swiftly she felt the ice settle on her skin. Glancing over at him, she watched as he closed the doors of the school, shifting the bag on his back, mouth set in a grim expression. Without thinking, she scooped a handful of snow, compressing it into a ball, tossing it toward him. It struck him on the chest and he took a step back, blinking at her for a moment before laughing. It was a laugh shed never heard from him before. Deep and hearty. It made her giggle and he tossed a handful of snow at her, following her to the gate, the echo if their laughs lingering as they left the school grounds, walking into the road, greeted by the groan of walkers and the howl of the winter wind.


	16. Chapter 16

The bridge was a long walk and night was beginning to fall, dropping temperatures, making the air hard to breathe in. Beth didn't care. The sight of snow dancing on the breeze against the black canopy of sky was enough to keep her ep smiling. The sky was filled with stars, so many to be seen since the city lights went out. A few falling stars shot by and Beth resisted the urge to make a wish. She never had got that puppy she'd wished on a star for as a child. Asking for her to find an entire group of people alive and well in Dale was a hefty wish. Too much to ask for on one star. They'd passed a lot of empty shops and looted gas stations. A Museum had been situated just before the bridge but Beth felt sad seeing it, windows shattered, painting strewn across the garden, walkers lingering about the entrance doors. Walkers were slower, the few they'd killed just after the school hardly making the effort to lunge forward as Beth passed them. As long as they didn't freeze or starve before they got to Dale, she was sure they had a chance. Morgan seemed better now he was out on the road and she was glad. He preferred moving, his mind always fixated on finding Rick. It had been a long journey for him and Beth hoped they'd both get what they were searching for. Sticking her tongue out, she tried to catch a snowflake, aware of how dry her mouth was. She thirsted for a gallon of water, not just the few sips she allowed herself. Hot cocoa in this weather would have been all too heavenly a dream but Beth let herself think about how perfect a cup would be, with little marshmallows bobbing about on top, dusted with chocolate powder. When her stomach groaned she stopped the image from becoming any more desirable, staring ahead at the bridge. As they began walking across, she was suddenly aware of how misty it was. The water below was barely viable through the fog. Up ahead, she couldn't see the other side.

Frowning, she turned to Morgan, watching his expression cloud over. Something was wrong and she knew it wasn't just the mist. Without warning, Morgan picked up the pace, darting ahead, Beth following, enjoying the brief warmth caused by running. She followed him till he stopped and held out an arm, keeping her back. His eyes darted to hers, wide and alarmed, so unnerving she grasped his hand in momentary fear.

"The bridge... It's gone..."

Confused, she looked before her, gasping. The bridge ended, mangled metal rods and cracked pavement leading to a sheer drop into the ocean. Someone had destroyed the bridge. The government maybe? They had bombed Atlanta. Why would they stop there? A broken bridge would cut off walkers, maybe they did it early on when the outbreak was thought to be containable. Hadn't her dad heard about that on the radio. Before all the airwaves went dead. After Shawn was bit. Her dad told Maggie in private but Beth had pressed her ear to the door, eager to understand what was happening outside of the farm. Boston, Atlanta and some other state she could remember had been named designated evacuation zones, but her dad said the governemnt was warning that they start cutting off transport. Bridges to New York were destroyed. Boats were called back, train stopped. Maybe if she'd paid more attention to the media instead of petting her horse or worrying Jimmy might be cheating on her, then Beth might have known more of how changed the world was.

Morgan kicked a piece of broken concrete, watching it fall into the mist, the wind muffling the distant splash as it dropped to the water. He turned, sighing with resignation. Beth shrugged, her bag slipping down, so empty now. Her eyes glanced at the mist ahead, suddenly became aware of the sound of an engine racing towards them. From far ahead, she saw something bright, lights shining out from the mist. Morgan cursed, ordering her to hide, knowing it was pointless. They had nowhere to go. The sound of doors shutting and guns loading made him tense up and Beth held his arm tighter, knife out, ready. The voice that emerged from the shadowy figure in the mist was unfamiliar and cold, making Beth shudder.

"Finally, got some new meat for the winter."

...

Beth knew their type. The three figures who aimed their guns at her and Morgan, ordering them to stand down. She knew them well. They weren't Grady cops but their faces gave their true nature away. Cruel, sneering faces that looked on them as though they were nothing. The same look of superiority painted on most of the faces of Grady's officers. The man who had spoken was the most sinister of the three. His nose was broken, his smile crooked, short hair accompanied by a scraggly beard. Something in his eyes was hungry and cruel, glaring at them as he snorted, spitting on the floor. He seemed to enjoy watching Beth surrender her knife, eyes lingering on her. The other man was younger, wearing a cape that Beth realised was made from skin. Human skin. Walker skin. Grey and dry, wrapped around his shoulders. His face was blank, a tattoo of a skull on his left cheek. He suggested they shoot them and get somewhere warm but the woman refused. Of the three, she seemed the most controlled, picking up the weapons Beth and Morgan dropped, searching them swiftly before she restrained Morgan.

It was disturbing how casually she spoke her warning into Morgan's ear as he pulled away from her, "You come with us. Don't fight or I'll gut the girl, then you."

"We don't want no trouble, were on our way to..."

She didn't let Morgan finish speaking, twisting his arm hard, making him drop to his knees in anguish. Beth ran over to him, evading the grasp of the bearded man, receiving a harsh kick to her back as she passed him, the impact of his boot rupturing through her weak bones. As she slipped and fell onto her knees, she could hear him chuckling, his voice high and humoured as she glared at him, "check you little minx, don't make me kick that pretty face in."

Morgan fought as Beth was grabbed by the tattooed man, his arms thick and dense, constricting her, his voice low and heavy as he complained, "this is too much hassle, I say we dump them in the river. They ain't the submissive type."

The woman silenced him with a sharp look, kicking Morgan in the ribs as he struggled, "Do that and I'll tell the boss you let people go. How'd you like that? He's been pissed since we lost that group in Johnson, how'd you think he'll reward us for dumping two live ones in the river?"

Her captor snorted, warning her to keep still. Beth's eyes widened as she realised the explosion had been set by her group. Somehow, these people were aware of them and if they thought they were lost, it was possible they had escaped. She bit her lip, trying to breathe, knowing now that the walker she'd seen with the gun hadn't been a figment of her imagination. The woman began to tie Morgan's hands, swearing as he almost spun round to strike her, her gun aimed at his head. Beth screamed, unable to control her panic. The bearded man laughed, slapping his knee, standing before Morgan. With a swift punch, he struck Morgan down, causing his eye to swell, "Old man will you shut the fuck up, my god, it's annoying!"

The man behind Beth began to complain again, half suffocating her with his impenetrable grip, "He's gonna make moving them hard. The old ones are always stubborn."

The bearded man groaned, spitting again, rolling his eyes, "Well, fuck, let's just cripple the bastard!"

Beth watched in horror, pulling against the man who held her, trying to break free and help Morgan as she realised what he meant. Her resistance was pointless. They pulled him down, the woman forcing him to raise his leg and rest it on the bumper while the other guy held him up. The man restraining Beth gave a groan, "I hate the sound, you know that."

The other man sneered, "grow a pair, you dick. Just do it."

Pulling Beth with him, the man behind her brought his food down hard on Morgan's shin, his pained cry making her feel weak, the sound of bone splintering making her nauseas. He collapsed, out cold, and Beth felt more alone than ever. Swiftly, she decided to work on a way of making them underestimate her. What else did she have? If she could trick the cops at Grady into thinkings she was weak, she could fool these half wits. Only difference here was that it wasn't just her life on the line. Morgans was at risk as well.

"Please, please I... He took me... My d-daddy will be lookin' for me."

She forced herself to sound pitiful, to stutter and whimper, cowering like a kid. The woman seemed to pity her, expression softening, though Beth's act seem to excite the other man who was now rubbing his beard thoughtfully, eyes alight with something she recognised. Something she'd seen in Gorman's eyes. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, forcing tears. The woman reached out to take her, voice calmer, "let's get her back, it's up to the boss what..."

She didn't have a chance to finish. The bearded man snorted, grabbing Beth by the chin, studying her with hungry eyes, "the fuck you talkin' bout Lily, this girls the perkiest little blonde I seen since world went to shit. She ain't goin' nowhere till I've had my fill."

The woman grimaced, disgusted, yet seeming to back away. He had power over her, somehow, and Beth knew she wouldn't be getting any help playing the sympathy card. Her best bet was to get him alone.

"I-I've never done anything like that... I'm a good girl," she exclaimed, sickened by her own choice of words. As she expected, he beamed, a full mouth of gold teeth shining at her. Whatever he'd been before the dead starting walking, Beth could be sure he had been the same monster even then. Rubbing his hands together, he let out a cackle of glee, "got me a Virgin Mary. You two load up the old man, I need me some private time with little miss here."

Thrown into his grasp, Beth held her breath as he held her close, pressing her against him, hands wandering. She didn't even let herself think of him as a man, let alone human. To her, he was an animal, wild and rabid, that needed to be put down... Brutally. As the others dragged Morgan around to the boots, she noticed his eyes open, giving her a quick glance. She winked at him, letting out a pained cry as the man took a firm hold of her arms, fingers digging into her flesh, breath rancid as he forced her to look at him, lifting her a little so they were face to face. He was so absorbed by desire, he didn't notice her hand grip his knife, sliding it out of his belt.

"I'm gonna you tear you to pieces, little girl. Just like I did to all the others," He murmured, leaning in to kiss her, never learning how wrong he'd been to underestimate her as Beth drive the knife into his stomach, dropping from his grasp, pushing him to the floor, hand clamped over his mouth. His cried of agony were muffled, her knees keeping his arms down. His eyes were wide as she stared down at him, pulling the knife out, holding it to his throat.

"I ain't no little girl," she murmured, running the knife along his neck, leaving him to choke on his own blood as she hurried to the car where the the other two were unaware of her actions, having abandoned Morgan on the floor, taking a break to smoke cigarettes. The woman was muttering something about 'killing the girl when he's done' and Beth felt no doubt in what she had to do next. Glancing at Morgan, she saw his eyes wide open, watching her. He'd seen what she'd done and was both relieved and devastated. Blood stained her cheeks and jacket, the knife dripping blood onto the white snow, corrupting it's purity. Morgan couldn't understand how she seemed so calm but he was grateful for her composure. It willed him to pull his hands free of the rope that had been tightly wrapped around them. Beth didn't linger on what he'd seen, nodding at him. He'd didn't need her to explain. Using his uninjured leg, Morgan kicked the man down, grabbing him, striking his head against the road, killing him by the third blow. Before the woman could say a word, Beth came round the side of the car, forcing the knife into the woman's chest, piercing her heart, a soft wheeze of breath escaping she as she fell to the ground, eyes staring into the sky. Empty. Beth took a shuddering breath, wiping the blood from her hands onto her jeans, helping Morgan up. He cried out as he tried to walk on his leg. It was broken. Luckily, they didn't have to worry about him walking on it. Looking in the boot, Beth saw a full can of gas, along with a bag of pocketed food and fresh vegetables. Morgan collected their guns, smiling as he realised how lucky an escape they had. Whoever they were, they were well stocked. Aiding Morgan to the front seat, Beth assured him inside, warning him to stay as she walked back over to the bearded man, his eyes watching her with fury as she stared at him. He held his neck, coughing blood. She had given him what he deserved. A slow death. Somehow, it didn't seem harsh enough.

"This is for every girl you ever hurt," she spat, walking over to the drivers door, getting in, pressing down on the horn. Morgan watched her with confusion but he noticed her eyes focused ahead. A few walkers emerged from the mist. Slow yet steady, snow lingering on their crooked forms. Beth had rung the dinner bell and she didn't feel a trace of guilt. Starting up the engine, she began to drive away. Morgan was still watching her, a hand resting on his leg, more concerned for her than for himself. All to aware of his attention, she sighed, wiping blood from her cheek with a small frown.

"Sometimes it's not the dead who are the real monsters."

...

Dawn came too early. Daryl wasn't ready to get up. Not yet. Waking up in a bed was still something he couldn't quiet get over. Besides, he hadn't got much sleep. Night watch had been long and cold. He was glad to do it, as agreed by Rick. They had to do something for all the help Douglas and his people were giving them. He just wasn't used to hours of silence as he felt the cold chill his bones. It was a merciless task. Lonely too. He'd avoided standing near the fires with the other guards. Nothing personal, he just wasn't keen on having to 'make friends' as his brother would say. It was something that ran in the family. A trait from his dad no doubt. Dixon's weren't quick to trust and would rather be alone than try to build bridges. Luckily Glenn had joined him before long, smiling again. Daryl was glad to see him looking like the smart ass kid he first met. It was common knowledge that Maggie was back to her old self, taking care of herself and the child she carried, and Glenn was no longer pale with worry or weak from starvation. He'd gone on about how nervous he was about being a dad and how thankful he was for the house Douglas had given them. Daryl didn't do much but nod and watch the snow fall.

Deep down he wondered what it felt like, having to look out for a kid, worry about how you raise it, what you let it do. Merle used to take claim for the man Daryl was, swearing he raised him. Maybe he had, but he shouldn't have been too proud with the result. Daryl always expected he'd be the worse kind of father, and not just because he thought of a kid as an 'it.' He'd grown up with a father who beat him for fun and let him think, as he always used to say, "weren't worth nothing." Red neck trash. All he'd ever call his sons. Red neck trash who would end up dead before long. He used to feel proud he'd escaped from his past, but when he looked ahead, thought of what other people might have, and he knew he was still his fathers son. No woman would want him. At least not for long. He wasn't easy to put up with. A kid would be... As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake the image of Beth from his mind, Judith cradled in her arms. Maybe he did know what it meant to look out for a kid. He did take care of Beth when they escaped the prison, although she could handle herself pretty well on her own. Some people might say she was young enough to be his kid but Daryl never saw her that way. Didn't see her like his baby sister or a child, Beth was too tough, she was strong willed and didn't want someone being her chaperone. When they spoke between glasses of moonshine on that porch, before they burnt it to the ground, he knew he wasn't ever gonna see her as a burden. Night he lay in that coffin, listening to her sing, he'd stared into space and wondered if that warm ache in his chest was something he'd never thought he could feel. Why else did he think of her and Judith at the prison and feel a wave of grief at the thought of never coming home to find them waiting for him.

He felt sick. Embarrassed by his own wishes, disgusted by his own desires, and depressed because it was useless taking up all this time thinking of a girl who wasn't there anymore.

He cursed, sitting up, the bed no longer feeling so comfortable. Glancing around the place, he knew he'd have to get used to how empty it was. Been a long time since Daryl Dixon had a place of his own. Even when he had his own place for that month, Merle was always there, daily, taking his beers or sleeping on his floor. He'd complain but deep down he knew he didn't want to be alone. As tough as he was, he didn't enjoy his own company much. All that time spent surviving alone out there taught him that on your own, you can make yourself crazy. Without his brother snoring on the couch or swearing about there being no food, the house was just four walls and a roof. He never wanted to be by himself like this.

Yet here he was, in a house made for a family of two. Douglas had insisted he take a house to himself. Maybe because he was too scared to put Daryl in with any of his people. Rick offered him a room but Daryl didn't want to intrude on anyone. He let Michonne take his place in the Grimes house. She was already a stand in mother to Carl and Judith, what good was he in a warm family household. Tara stayed with Noah and the father. Tyrese and Sasha lived with Carol. Everyone had their unit. When Douglas showed him this place, Daryl noticed how far off it was from everyone else. A few minutes from the barrier wall, close to the outside. Douglas swore it was the only house with hot water all year round, but he knew it was just a cover. The man was good at talking crap. Another annoying prick to put on his list. Groaning, he got to his feet, suprises by how warm the room was. Having electricity was a luxury he'd forgotten long ago. Carefully, he pulled on a navy blue shirt he'd found in the RV, sliding his vest on top, wishing it was summer again. Least then he didn't have to worry about layering up. He was still sticking to his own clothes, despite the wardrobe full of new ones. Then he headed downstairs, cross bow waiting for him by the door, along with his boots.

He was heading out. Didn't agree with him to sit here, eating alone, thinking of all the mistakes he'd made that led him here. He still couldn't shake the hospital from his mind, nor could he erase the bodies of their recent dead lined up in front of him. Abraham hadn't been a friend, he didn't even know where he was from, but he had been a good enough guy. Died saving his girl, took a bullet through the head. The way they lay there, together, entwined, it hit Daryl hard and he knew why. God, it killed him but he knew why. Rosita, younger and smaller, lying still, encircled by Abrahams arms. Make her even smaller with long blonde hair and... He walked into the hall and hit the wall with his fist. The pain helped him focus on something else, something other than Beth, but his mind was always somewhere else lately.

They lost too many and he'd failed to stop them from dying. At least out there he had too much to worry about, surviving and hunting, didn't let him linger too long on what he didn't have. Two days of living like this and still he felt like a prisoner, which was why he was heading out. Again. Outside the wall into the areas of Alexandria they didn't enclose. The wild areas he felt most at home in. Yesterday he'd taken down a few rabbits, the winter making them scarce but easier to track. Today he was off to explore deeper into the park. It was a big park, big as a small neighbourhood, or so he thought. He'd come across a shack a little way in, door locked but free from walker damage. Daryl decided it would be his escape. A place out there where he could be himself and escape the eyes of every damn person there. One eyed dog was on the couch, still asleep. He wasn't keen on naming it. Not when it was so keen on running off. Daryl wondered if the damn mutt wasn't a cat in disguise, way he slept all day. He didn't take him out with him. Too worried he'd run away again and die in the snow. He had no reason to care about the creature but he fed it and pet it anyway. Sometimes he even snuck it some rabbit when he got in from night watch. A part of him knew Beth would have done the same.

Sighing, he shifted his cross bow onto his back, sliding his feet into his boots, opening the door. The winter breeze chilled him, waking every inch of his body from the warm aura of sleep. Daryl withheld a stream of profanity as he noticed a few women passing, their eyes darting to him nervously, a man with them giving him a disapproving glance. He promised Rick he'd be civil but hell it weren't easy. It was easier on the raid for a guy like him. The dead were easy to deal with. At least with walkers they didn't stare at you cus' they hated you. Here, he couldn't fight with everyone who judged him. Hell, he couldn't blame some of them. Before it all went to shit, he'd been used to being the unwanted presence in town. Only since he'd got to know the group and fought with them had he started knowing what it meant to be accepted. Even Judith wasn't scared of him. Few times he'd seen Rick, she'd be there, in his arms, face lighting up when she saw him. It was times like this when he really valued having Rick there. He was always checking on him, calling Daryl over, making sure all was good with everyone. Daryl knew a good man when he saw one and Rick Grimes was the best of them. As he crossed the porch and descended the few steps into the street, he glanced down the road. Most people were still asleep or at home making breakfast. Explained the smell of eggs and meat that travelled through the air. Few men passed him on his way over to the gate, the guard giving him a wary look but he opened up the door that led through to the iron railings. Neither of them spoke but Daryl knew they weren't keen on letting him wander. Didn't matter much to him, but everyone here seemed overly afraid of what lay outside the wall. Walkers were few, the abandoned parts of the city fairly clear in comparison to Atlanta. Made perfect sense that more people here made it.

"Watch yourself."

Daryl glanced at the guard, considering his words, letting out a snort as he walked out, staring at the path ahead, leading out, back to Georgia. He'd been so eager to leave there once, maybe he was glad to be away from all the dark memories he'd left behind, but there was still some part of him that wanted to go back. Back to where he'd had somebody. Merle. Beth. He might be safer here, but there was no way it would ever be home.

...

There were times when it helped to have something in your mind to focus on. To have a place or a person or just something good, resting in your conscious, reminding you to keep going. If that thought is strong enough, it can pull you out of anything. Doesn't matter how dark things are, or how weak you feel, or how hopeless things might seem. You keep going because your fighting everything the world is throwing at you. Your beating back the rising tide and reaching out for that horizon. Beth knew her thoughts were the only way she was still standing. The only reason she could find to defy the cold and keep moving. It took a day to get here, to Dale, and when they arrived, the sight of walker bodies pulled high outside the gate warned her that there was no one here. The bodies were frozen, killed by bullets. She stood alone, staring at the gate, Morgan still asleep in the car. He didn't need to see this. Didn't need to know they'd hit another dead end. Beth didn't need to walk in and call out for her group. The place was deserted and she could almost feel how long it had been since they passed through. Her heart ached as she studied the dead. None of them were anyone she knew but she pushed through the pile and checked each one. Just to keep her hopes alive.

The snow began to fall again as she dropped to her knees, feeling helpless, lost again. Before long the snow would start to stop them in their tracks and they didn't have enough supplied to last the winter stuck in the car. Staring at the frozen ground, she reached out, just to feel the numb pain of the snow against her hand, to feel something other than the disappointment rushing through her veins. Her fingers brushed something small and hard, digging deeper, they took hold of a square object, dusting the snow away to find a small black book. A bible. It was just like her dad's bible. Opening it, she half expected to see his name scribbled on the first page, frowning as she saw a note. A prayer written in pencil.

'Heavenly father, we pray you save us and bless those who saved us. We leave for Alexandria safe zone, for the promise of safety. We leave you to watch our dead and heal our mortal wounds. Amen.'

Alexandria. Beth suddenly felt a surge of warmth emanating from her chest. She didn't care how stupid she felt to believe in miracles, but the book was the closest she had ever felt to receiving something from some unseen force. There was no name, no mention of her group or who was dead and who had made it, but Beth pushed away her doubts, running to the car, smiling as she mumbled a thanks to her father. Wherever he was. Finally, she'd found a final destination. Perhaps, if the heavens were on her side, she would find them before the day was over. Back to those she loved and missed and had fought so hard to find. Back to Daryl.


	17. Chapter 17

Driving from Dale was almost too peaceful a journey. Beth kept expecting to see more men wearing walker skins watching them from the shadows, or cars following them in the mist. When they reached the borders of Alexandria, she was almost sure something was wrong. Something was always wrong. The roads were clear and the towns they passed were abandoned. Walkers were few, seeming to disappear as the snow grew deeper. When they passed an abandoned vehicle by the side of the road a few miles out from Dale, Beth felt confident to search it for supplies. Having a gun again was reassuring in a way she'd long since forgotten. The car had been empty, save for two corpses who had somehow not come back. One of them wore a burgundy jacket with a fur hood, small enough to fit her perfectly. In the fight on the bridge, Beth had stained the one Morgan had given her. Stained with blood and dirt, the fabric torn. She was eager to slip out of it and leave it behind, along with all the painful memories resting within it. The car also had a first aid kit, with bandages that came in handy for Morgan's leg. It may have been a clean break but it needed supporting. Every bump in the road and sharp swerve on the ice made him wince and clutch his injury. He didn't talk much either. The cold had weakened him. Beth knew that if he was suffering from any sort of illness, he could be on a dangerous path unless they found medicine. It made her drive a little faster, a little more edgy as she wondered where the safe zone was.

The snow was their only enemy out here. It fell constantly for the few days they traveled, and the road was slowly beginning to disappear, buried beneath it. The car was starting to strain. When they stopped at night for Beth to sleep while Morgan kept watch, she'd awaken to find the car barely able to start again. The spare gas tank was empty and soon enough, they'd be out of supplies. Unknown to Morgan, she was cutting back her own rations for him. The bag in the back had carried enough food for two days, but Morgan wasn't just suffering from a broken leg. The woman had broken a rib, maybe two, and he was begining to look sick. She heard him, when she slept, groaning as he tried to breathe, holding the left side of his chest. The extra food was keeping him from fading out and Beth was glad the car engine hid how loud her stomach ached for food.

When they passed into Alexandria, Morgan had stirred from his dreamy state, trying to focus on the map, rubbing his eyes as he saw the map begin to blur, "Almost there, Beth."

The words were meant to reassure her, but all Beth could hear was the strain in his tone. The weariness. She bit her lip and resisted looking over at him, focused on the road, forcing a smile, "how about we play a game?"

He let out a breathless laugh, pushing himself up, a hand on his leg, "I know how it goes. Things I miss... The sun."

She nodded, slowing as she rounded a corner, relieved to see buildings in the distance. The skyline was hazy the sun white and swallowed by the dark clouds above them. The road began to narrow and the car began to knock in that way she'd heard so often before. They didn't have long left with the engine and she prayed it could make it to the city, beyond the mist. Sighing, she thought of summer, of he sun and the summer breaks spent at the lake, the ghost kg a smile on her lips as she spoke, "I miss my guitar. My mom bought me one from a thrift shop. Took me a month to clean it up good and get it sounding perfect."

He let out a muffled groan, head leaning back against the head rest, eyes closing as he felt another wave of pain surge through him, focussing on the image of Beth playing her music. Playing like an angel. Sighing, he let out a chuckle, "I promise... We find this place, and I'll find you one. A nice one. I'll even let you play those country songs you love so much."

Beth bit down hard on her lip, trying hard to keep the tears from bursting free, her hand finding his, squeezing it. Hearing someone so strong sound so weak was more painful than any bullet or bruise. To see her saviour, the man who wanted to bring her home and keep her safe, fading away slowly, was unbearable. His hand was cold and clammy, it shook despite how firmly he gripped her palm. He told her to keep going, that he was fine, but if he died, she'd never make it. She'd be here, in this car, forever. Mourning another father lost to this cruel new world.

...

When the car stopped running, she was sure they could manage on foot for the next few miles, until it was clear Morgan couldn't walk unassisted. He insisted she couldnt take his weight and even with a fiery determination to prove him wrong, Beth struggled to help him out from the car, his weight crushing down on her. She didn't want to admit the cold and lack of food had weakened her. Morgan deserved better but even he seemed aware of how futile their efforts were. He'd even suggested she go ahead, leave him there, send help when she found the safe zone. Beth almost screamed at him for ever believing she could do that. Just leave an injured friend behind in the cold so she had a better chance at making it. That wasn't who she was. The moment he said it, her icy fingers had pressed hard against his lips, silencing him. Unable to lose another father. Unable to lose someone she had come to love like family. If he stayed, so did she, regardless of how much she longed for what lay ahead of them. You don't abandon your own. Her father said that once and Beth was his daughter. She put her friends first.

Zipping his coat up, she left him to rest against the car, surveying the road as she murmured to herself, "I can't hold you up... But maybe we can figure a way we can make it easier."

Searching the snow beside the road, she happend upon the remanants of a fence, pulling at a post that was firmly grounded down into the earth. After a moment straining, she decided to push it, rewarded with the splintering crack of wood. The post was solid, steady. A perfect crutch. Her dad survived so many close calls while bound to his crutches. Morgan was lucky he hadn't lose a foot. That might make this impossible. Handing it over to him, she kept hold of her gun, wary of the road behind them, fishing out the beaten sheriff hat from the back seat. Walking to Morgan, she smiled, placing it on his head gently, making sure it was straight.

"It's good luck."

He have her a weak smile, trying to conceal a shiver, frustrated by his weakness as he saw her frown with concern, hurrying to the boot. There was the empty bag that had contained the food, the first aid kit, and a folded pile of woollen blankets. An idea sparked in Beth's mind and she swiftly set herself to work. Using their blankets, she made a thick poncho, tearing holes for the arms with her knife, wrapping it around him, changing the cloth on his leg with the bandages remaining in the first aid kit, ignoring his protests as she forced him to eat the last of the jerky, swearing she'd leave it behind unless he consumed it. The road ahead was long and they wouldn't reach the city any time soon at this pace, but Beth was content with how desolate the area was. Empty stretches of snow lay either side of them, a few walkers roaming about in the distance, the road ahead void of any corpses. The city seemed desolate, and maybe that was a good sign. Less walkers meant something was starting to kill them off. She hoped it was the survivors of the safe zone, killing them off.

Beth knew she had what she needed to get to the safe zone. In her mind, she saw what drove her onwards. It wasn't the promise of warm food or a bed or just to escape the dead. It was Daryl. Waiting for her. Just as she'd last seen him. He thought she was dead and she wouldn't let that stand. He needed her. Unlike Morgan, she still had someone she cared about. Knowing she'd find him, that made her strong. Knowing she could hold Judith again, and hug Rick, and return the snow dusted sheriff hat to Carl, that made her unstoppable. A few miles past the empty stretch of snow to their left, past the office building black with neglect, lay everyone she ever loved. Or at least, those who were left. She couldn't let herself think that way, but with every step forward, she could feel how hard the journey would be, and how weak they had grown. Beth lived in hope, but she knew that their journey could lead them to another dead end, or worse, a place full of strangers and a row of graves where her loved ones slept in eternal slumber.

...

"If I dump this hat in the snow, will you tell Michonne?"

Daryl chuckled as Carl gave him a desperate look, pulling off the faded wooly hat, his expression grim. Daryl shrugged. The hat was ugly. Red and green with weird stitches that looked like Christmas trees. He threw it over the side of the porch, glancing at the front door, being sure he'd not been caught. Daryl liked seeing him like this. Back to being a kid, doing dumb things because he could, not worrying about how many rounds he had left for his gun or what way a walker hoard was coming from.

"Miss my old hat."

Carl glanced up, both sharing a moment of silence, all too aware of what rested on the others mind. Beth. Daryl pulled his shirt collars up, suddenly feeling the cold. Carl smirked.

"Dont let her see you cold or you'll be wearing the scarf she tried to lasso around my neck."

Daryl shook his head, pushing off from the railing, "ain't never had anyone chasing after me to keep warm."

Carl understood what he meant. Daryl's mom wasn't there much and when she died, Daryl was out in the world surviving. As tough as he might think the world had made him, Carl couldn't pretend to have any idea how it felt to not have parents who cared about you. His mom had died for her family. His dad put his life on the line countless of times to save his family and the group. Without them, Carl knew he'd have been dead a long time ago. When he saw Daryl, saw how strong he was, yet how alone and distant he seemed to be, Carl knew that he needed to find someone. A girl, a friend, anything. When they started living here, life had become so safe and easy. His dad worked with Douglas and was home a lot, Michonne watched Judith and kept him laughing. There were kids here Carl's age, the boys always chasing him for stories of how many dead he'd killed the girls seeming to pay him a little too much attention. They were back to a normal life. As normal as they'd ever find out here.

He heard Michonne talking to Judith and suddenly felt strange. That same uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. He glanced at Daryl. His dad was always saying how good a man Daryl was and how he trusted him with everything. Walking over to Daryl, he lowered his voice a little, "I'm just... Getting used to having someone take my moms place."

Daryl nodded. He could have guessed the reason. Heading down the steps, he turned back to Carl, "way I see it, no one can ever replace your mom... But you can't let the past ruin a good thing."

Carl was stunned by the words and nodded, dumbfounded, looking back to the house in time to see his dad emerging. Without a word, Carl went back to the porch rail, leaning over, retrieving the hat, pushing it into his pocket. He'd never been so suprised by someone's advise but the moment Daryl had finished his sentence, Carl could almost see his mom. Standing there. Smiling at him. Willing him to move on and be happy. Ever since they got to Alexandria, he'd been seeing her. In his dreams. Never any bad memories. Just her, standing there, perfect and warm and smiling, watching him. Always so out of reach and yet always there. He didn't tell his dad. He didn't want him to lose himself to grief again. What Daryl had told him gave him all the encouragement he needed. He knew deep down his mom would want him to live, to be happy. Michonne made him happy. Cared about him. Protected him. Loved him like a son. She wasn't there to replace his mom, but she was there to love him the same way. Silently, he went inside, passing through the hall, walking up to Michonne. She was tossing Judith in the air, laughing as his sister babbled. When he was close, she stopped and glanced at him with an unsure smile.

"Everything okay?"

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her, Judith's hands tousling his hair as he spoke, "I'm glad were a family."

...

Rick followed Daryl. A few steps behind. Not ready to start a conversation while they passed most of Alexandria's inhabitants. Things were just starting to settle here. The whisperers hadn't attacked in a while, the winter stocks were full, and everyone was getting ready to plan christmas dinners and church services. Rick's primary concern was his group. Which was why he was following Daryl. It was nearing a week since they arrived and a lot had happened. Abraham and Rosita were buried at the cemetery lot, with gravestones and a proposer funeral service. The father was now part of the new church. Carol and Tyrese were a couple. Maggie was starting to show and Glenn was obsessed with getting a nursery ready early. Noah was helping with building the new library. Tara and Sasha had been training some of the women to use guns. Everyone had found a way to move on.

Even Rick himself had started letting himself enjoy some of the small indulgences of a normal life. He made a snowman with Carl for Judith. He made everyone grilled cheese last night, the first thing he ever made Lori when they first moved in together, and he remembered her with every bite. Lately, he'd started realising how perfect a family he had. Michonne was the mom the kids needed, and he knew too well she wasn't just a friend to him. She'd been more for a while and knowing she was there... It helped him handle all the problems he faced when he had to work with Douglas. The people here were ignorant of how dangerous it was out there and the whisperer threat was one Rick felt needed careful treatment. He didn't want this place to fall like the prison had. He wanted to know who they were up against.

As much as he had on his mind, Daryl was always a worry for him. A person who didn't seem to fit into the new lives they were leading. Someone left behind while they all moved ahead. Daryl didn't have family but Rick wanted him to know that they were there for him. He'd offered him a place under his own roof.

"Daryl, can I get a minute."

He turned around, unaware that he was being tailed, nodding, following Rick to a more desolate space by the stockpile of wood stacked by the low wooden building used to treat meat and make clothes. The low hum of life surrounded them but there was no one else close by. For a moment, Daryl let himself enjoy how free he felt, glancing at Rick with concern as he saw him shift uncomfortably for a moment.

"Something happened?"

Rick shook his head, a hand on his hip, looking toward the wall, "I'm worried about you Daryl."

He should have seen it coming but Daryl looked confused, staring at the ground as Rick looked at him, trying to read him. Of course he had noticed Daryl wasn't 'embracing the fresh start' as Douglas called it the day they arrived here. Wasn't his fault. It was hard enough getting used to not being out there, fighting for something, surviving the way he always had. Go back in time and he'd have warned Rick to mind his business, but they weren't friends then. Now, he wasn't keen on keeping secrets. Not from Rick.

"M'fine. Gettin' used to how things are."

Rick lowered his voice, concern growing deeper as he watched Daryl dismiss the truth, "you gotta let it go. I know it's hard, believe me. We have a chance to start new lives here. I want that for you. You deserve that."

Daryl shrugged. Rick didn't get it. He didn't understand that Daryl wasn't holding himself back. There just wasn't anything to push him forward. Since Grady, all he had to keep him going was the hope that he could save the group from dying out there on the road. Now they were here, he felt useless. No one needed him. There was no one here who he needed. Everyone that ever showed him the promise of a brighter future had died before they could fulfil their promise. Rick saw the conflict in Daryl's eyes and sighed, "What happend... At the hospital... It was awful. That's not somthing anyone can forget, but it's not on you. I know how far you went to save her, but you gotta let Beth go."

Daryl felt angry. A fiery anger that burnt into his skin and made him clench his fists. Hearing anyone say her name was hard but he couldn't stand hearing what he knew was the truth. He had to let her go. Looking to his feet again, Daryl studied the snow and the dirt, the our and the filth, the way the white was polluted by the brown. He looked up at Rick, suprised when he decided to be open, for once, "When we found Carol... When you found Judtih again. I just expected her to be there. Didn't think they'd take her and... I thought I'd find her and bring her home."

"I know," Rick sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Daryl's shoulder.

The bell tolled nearby, the town hall was serving breakfast. Rick knew his kids would be waiting but he wasn't ready to leave. Daryl just gave him a weak smile, nodding, "My problem Rick. You got your own family to watch out for."

As Daryl moved away, heading back home, he called out, "Wouldn't be much of a brother if I didn't keep an eye on you too."

Rick rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of how much it hurt to think about Grady. How he'd touched Beth's arm and felt that warm reassurance that she was back. That Judith would see the girl who cared for her so much. That Maggie would see her sister again. That Hershel's daughter was safe. When that gun shot hit and he saw her fall, Rick could barely speak, pained by the sight of Daryl picking up her tiny broken body. He sighed, staring up at the sky, watching a flock of black birds flying overhead. Going home. If Rick Grimes could pray for anything, he prayed for Beth to be with her dad. If there was a place after all this. Somewhere for Lori and Hershel and Andrea and Beth and all the others he'd seen fall.

Daryl walked toward the gate, caught off guard by hand on his forearm, the grip warm and familiar. He turned to see Carol, smiling in that warm way he hadn't seen in a while, her hair a little longer, her eyes a little brighter. He'd been a little over protective of her since she had started getting serious with Tyrese, always watching out for anything that might indicate he wasn't treating her right. He felt guilty seeing her. Made him feel like a jack ass for ever thinking a guy like Tyrese would ever hurt her. Not that Carol was the same woman she had been. Back when she was stuck with that pig of a husband. Back when she was beaten around for fun. It still made him mad but seeing her so happy was a relief. She kept a hold of him, eyes searching his, "you know they serve breakfast at the hall."

He shrugged, nodding, unaware of how she rolled her eyes, "you coming or have I gotta get Tyrese to carry you."

She wasn't gonna let him slip away and he groaned, knowing full well he'd never get out of the gate with her watching. As protective as he could be, Carol was his equal. She wasn't stupid. She saw him, alone, never where there were too many people. That was who he was, but she wouldn't let him suffer alone. Letting go of his arm, she took his hand, pulling him toward the hall. He didn't let his hand linger in hers. It hurt to feel that pressure against his palm and the soft touch of fingers across his knuckles. It hurt because he felt Beth, for a second, the ghost of her hand in his. Carol didn't seem to notice, waving at Tyrese and Sasha who were waiting outside. Already, he noticed a few women casting him wary glances and he grit his teeth, shifting the crossbow on his back, wondering how long it would take him to get used to being looked at like dirt.

...

They reached the city outskirts, making their way past office building sat side by side, obstructing her view of what lay beyond them, forcing her to take the roads that were narrow and shadowy. The snow had stopped falling, replaced by a mist that concealed whatever lay before them. Beth tried to stay silent, but her breaths were shaky and there was the echo of every light tap of Morgan's crutch as it struck the road. Their feet were hidden beneath snow. Snow that had not been interrupted since it fell. Beth never did finish her tracking lessons but it was clear that no one had wandered this way in a long time. Maybe Daryl would notice something more, signs of life in the landscape, but all Beth saw were empty roads without a single car or walker in sight. A ghost town. The mist and the snow and the eery silence reminded her of a movie a Maggie took her to see one evening after they'd gone to get daddy's medicine from town. Maggie dared her to see a horror film with her. It would be their secret. Beth wasn't old enough to see it but she snuck in while Maggie distracted the usher. Shivering, she pulled Morgan up as she tried to focus on the memory. The name of the film evaded her but it was about a silent town, haunted by a ghost girl. You only get there by walking into the mist. She'd had nightmares for weeks. If only she'd known that one day, she be living in a world that was darker than any horror film. Monsters would walk the streets and turn your loved ones into mindless walking corpses. Men would try and make you submit to torture or behead your loved ones for power.

Beth always was the kind of girl to get scared easily. Growing up, she'd been afraid of clowns and large dogs and lightning. Shawn used to tease her about the monsters under her bed. It made her frown, walking in the mist amongst a city of dark structures and shadows, that she was the only Greene child to make it. Maggie was fearless. Always had been. Shawn never let anything shake him. Yet it was Beth who made it. Who killed to survive, who saw dead children, who survived a gun shot, who was buried alive. She was still afraid of things but she never let fear control her. Not while she had to survive.

"Sing something."

She slowed as she heard Morgan's whisper, feeling him droop a little, leg shaking as he tried to find a fitting in the snow. Carefully, she adjusted his position, taking more of his weight, firmly holding him against her as he tried to pull away, afraid he'd hurt her. She glanced up, cursing as the mist clouded the street ahead. She'd memorised the map on their way here. This wasn't Main Street. If they wanted to get to the largest road they needed to cut through the building to the left. Spying an alley, she began to head toward it, singing the first song that came to her mind.

'Well you only need the light when it's burning low

Only miss the sun when its starts to snow

Only know you love him when you let him go

Only know you been hight when you feeling low

Only hate the road when you missing home

Only know you love him when you let him go...'

Beth's voice shook as the cold penetrated her jacket and jumper, cutting through her skin. The wind was merciless and the snow left her legs numb, forced to move by what will power she had left. Morgan chuckled and she felt it emanate through her, his chest against her shoulder, his voice weak as he murmured, "another song about him."

Beth felt herself blush. Suddenly aware of what she was singing, too focused on moving to even realise she was speaking what lingered in her mind. The song kept her feeling strong, kept her warm in the inmost way, and she kept going, pulling Morgan through the alley enterance.

'Staring at the ceiling in the dark

Same old empty feeling in your heart

Love come slow and it go so fast

You see him when you fall asleep

Never to touch him never to keep

Cause you loved him too much

and you dive too deep...'

Stumbling, she shook under the weight of Morgan and the numb pain searing through her legs as the snow began to turn her muscles to ice. The snow began to grow deeper as they reached the narrow road that led up to the corner of a towering office block. On the map, she'd found that a lot of Alexadria was acceptable from the road around that corner, but her back began to seize and what was only a few feet ahead felt like a few miles. Her body screamed for her to stop, to drop Morgan down and find some way of regaining her strength, but Beth knew too well that if she let him go, he'd be too concerned by her pain to let her act as his crutch. Even now, as he coughed and muffled a groan, she knew he wanted to stop and she wasn't about to let him give up. They had to make it. They had to survive. Defying every ache in her body, Beth took a firmer hold of Morgan, urging him to more pressure on her, pulling him with her. In her mind, she sought out every dark thought that had haunted her, every person who ever wronged her, every word that ever hurt her.

The first voice to echo through her mind was Dawn's.

'You are nothing except dead or somebody's burden.'

Gritting her teeth, Beth winced as her foot struck something hard beneath the snow, forcing her to pull it free, muscles feeling as though they may break. She thought hard again. She could almost feel the heat of a mans breath, her bruised ribs aching with the memory of the man on the bridge.

'I'm gonna destroy you.'

Then, she felt something different. Something warm and comforting, a forgotten memory resurfacing, drawing her back to the farm, back to the kitchen table with her father. A puppy in his hands. A smile on his face. The puppy whimpered, underweight and abandoned, deep red scars on its face and back legs. Beth was young and cried that she was afraid he'd die so young. Her father looked up at her, her heart burning as the ghost of his face brought fresh tears to her eyes. His words giving her the will to breathe, to walk, to live.

'Hope is the only light that can burn away fear.'

Determined, Beth began to move faster, dragging Morgan toward the corner, breathing in deep breaths of icy air. Nothing was more fierce than a girls love for her father and here, alone, struggling against the odds, Beth felt him with her. In her heart. By her side. She turned to Morgan, smiling, about to tell him they would be okay...

When a groan emerged from the snow beneath her, a hand taking hold of her foot. She turned in time to see a walker, half buried beneath the snow, pulling her, Morgan collapsing as she was dragged, her hands unable to find her knife. Morgan forced himself up, turning, just in time to see the walkers head dropping to Beth's leg, her pained cry breaking every last hope her ever had, training his gun on the dead man, shooting it, dropping to the ground as he began to cry tears of anguish and grief. Behind him, Beth lay still, unable to turn around, a single word emanating from her quivering lips,

"Daddy."


	18. Chapter 18

Beth kept her eyes closed. Cheek aching from where she rested it, against the snow, unable to move, unable to open her eyes and see the world she'd be leaving behind. Inside of herself, she screamed in anguish, she cursed herself, she cursed how stupid she'd been to think she could do this. She felt like a child, young and vulnerable and scared. Scared to die. Beth wanted her mom. She wanted her dad, she wanted Maggie, and Shawn. She wanted them to hug her tight and promise it would all be okay. That it was all a dream. What if this was all a dream. Maybe she was asleep, safe in her bed, in her room, in her house on the farm, surrounded by her family and the miles of open land... No, she wasn't home. The frost cutting into her exposed skin and the silence around her were too real. The pain shooting through her leg was too real. This wasn't some long, unforgiving nightmare. Staring into the snow, knowing she couldn't hide away and revert to who she was all those years ago, Beth pined for another source of comfort. Daryl. She'd give anything to see him come running toward her. From beyond the mist. Calling her name. Looking at her with those blue eye, obstructed by his long brown hair. Carrying her on his back, holding her hand, telling her to keep singing. She'd be happy if he would be the one to sit. To pull he trigger. If he would be the one to put her down and send her away. At least she could look into his eyes one more time and catch a glimpse of whatever she'd seen at their last dinner. Maybe he'd tell her. Explain it to her. Lifting her head, she looked into the mist and swallowed the lump in her throat. No one was coming. This was real life. What you wanted and what you got were never the same thing. If she was turning, it would be up to her to press the gun to her template and squeeze the trigger.

Beth had to kill herself. All those times she thought she was ready. At the farm. Cutting her wrists, hoping to go easy. She wanted to go, right there, with her family by her side and the sun shining through the window. That wasn't how she saw life now. It wasn't something to waste. To of many people died trying to make it. Killing yourself was easy surviving was hard. She wished she could see things that same way, feel happy when she put a bullet through her skull, thinking she'd be with her dad and mom and Shawn up in heaven. No. No, that wasn't Beth anymore. She had so much to fight for, so much to do. All that pain, feeling lost, forgetting her people, escaping Grady, killing the walker children, killing those people on the bridge, saving Morgan... She'd been so strong, so selfless, surviving to find Daryl and Rick and Judith... Beth let herself sob as she turned her body, looking down at the walker by her feet, her boot submerged in snow. She should have been more careful. Carrying Morgan and thinking about the past just absorbed her into a stupor so deep she didn't notice it's hand stirring. She felt an ache where it had bit down and she blinked away tears, reaching down, trying to find the courage to see the bite.

Morgan's sob forced her to look up. There he lay, against the wall, gun in hand, staring up into the sky, his eyes burning with anger and sorrow. The same look she'd seen in her daddy's eyes when Shawn turned. Same look in Maggie's eyes when their daddy died. He was mourning her loss already and angry at himself. She wanted to comfort him, but words were impossible to form, drowned by the tears that chocked her.

"It's my fault... I should have stayed back... I made you weak and... I failed you..."

Shaking her head, she swallowed the tears and shushed him, begging him to look at her, smile weak as she spoke, "Maybe I'll come back as me... I am Saint Beth."

He looked at her, tears running down his hollow cheeks, the sherif hat tipped low as he gave he sighed painfully, trying hard to return her humour. He failed, breathless as he replied, "You'd have to be Jesus himself."

It was too painful to meet his gaze. She forced her attention back to her foot, pulling her boot from the snow, seeing the bite marks... That hadn't penetrated the leather. Shaking with hysteria, she felt the indents. The leather hadn't torn. What pain she felt must have been from the pressure of its jaw against the bruises on her arches and the frost that numbed her toes. Covering her mouth, she trembled, laughing for a moment. Her head felt light and it took a moment to resist the need to drop down and collapse. Morgan frowned at her, alarmed by her wide smile and wild eyes, watcher her crawl toward him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I think maybe you should call me Bethus."

Her laughter unnerved him, pulling her back, still shaking as he stared in awe at her smile. With a shuddering breath, he forced himself to sit up, looking at her boot, seeing the intact leather, hiding his eyes as he tried to breathe easy.

"Beth Greene you scare the hell outta me," he groaned, fingers wrapped securely around her forearm, her eyes bright and blinding as they stared into his, her smile beaming brighter than the sun he longed to feel again. His ribs ached from sobbing and his eyes burnt with tears but he smiles and he chuckled, giving her arm a soft squeeze. Whatever the world threw at this girl, she defied it and survived, and he was glad he had the chance to see her fight back one last time. Heaving, he tried to stand, knowing he couldn't. This was where he had to stay. His eyes met hers but she shook she head, suddenly serious. He opened his mouth to speak but another voice filled the silence.

"Hello?! Are you alright?!"

Beth looked up, gun raised instinctively, lowering it a little as she saw a woman approaching, accompanied by a man dressed in a soldiers uniform. They slowed as she aimed for the man, arms shaking but her finger hovered on the trigger, ready to make the shot. She was ready to kill them if they were the wrong sort of people. The soldier seemed equally sceptical of their intentions. He raised his gun but the woman urged him to lower it, pulling off her bag, the patch on her arm bearing a stitched first aid cross. She had copper hair, curly and long, her cheeks dusted with freckles, eyes so deep a green that Beth could barely look away. Something about her was perfect. Something trustworthy and warm lingered in her mesmerising irises. As though she wasn't from this world. An angel, maybe. If so, then Beth might have to run away. As perfect as heaven might be, she wasn't ready to leave this world, not yet, not when she was so close.

"I'm Carly, sweetheart, Were from the Alexandria safe zone."

Morgan groaned as he tried to rise up, but Beth kept a hand on his and looked at the woman with a pleading glance, her voice shaky, unsure, "I...I'm looking for Rick Grimes,"

Carly's saphire green eyes widened in suprise, staring at Beth in disbelief, looking over at the guard. He too seemed moved by her words, letting his gun slide back into its holster as he looked backwards, expression pensive. Carly spoke to him, her voice authorative "radio Douglas, tell him to get Rick to the gate. We got two of his."

The man nodded, pulling a large radio from his back pocket, tapping it against his hand a few times, cursing about 'old technology.' Before he moved away he called out to Carly, tossing her a box from his pocket as he turned and began working a small radio. Beth kept her gun at her side, still wary, though she couldn't help but trust Carly, who was checking Morgan's leg, wincing as she felt the break. Morgan was almost unrecognisable now. He looked thin, skin grey around his bloodshot eyes, lips cracked, body shaking. When Beth had believed herself bitten, Morgan had awoken from the shroud of death that seemed to linger around him, but now, the drain of his sickness seemed impossible to fight and Morgan almost surrendered to the pain, had it not been for Beth's steady hand wrapped tightly around his.

Carly checked his pulse and pulled off her own scarf, wrapping it around his neck, voice edged with disbelief, "I have no idea how you made it this far on foot..."

Morgan took a breathe and glanced at Beth, "Had a bit of help."

She smiled, withholding a sob. Relieved to see Carly able to help him. Glad to see him fighting the cold. From the box, she pulled two energy bars, handing one to Beth with a soft smile, then passed the other to Morgan. Beth insisted Morgan have her bar as well but he warned her that he needed her strong. Food never tasted so miraculous and Beth swallowed mouthfuls of the bar, sad when she was left with a wrapper, fishing the crumbs out from the corners of the wrapping. Carly have her water too. Her bag was full of supplies. Beth hoped the safe zone was close. She wasn't sure her legs could handle another minute of walking in the snow. Her lower body was stiff, numb from the cold, limbs more ice than flesh and blood.

"Let's get them moving Carly, don't wanna be out here when the wind picks up."

Glancing back at the man, she shot him a warning glare, voice sharp, ,"instead of being a Boy Scout about all this, how about you help me. They are in no condition to just get up and follow you. Your a man, help him."

The man rolled his eyes, coming closer. To Beth's surprise, he was a lot younger than she expected. Twenty maybe. He gave Carly a glare before helping Morgan up, gently aiding him to balance on his good leg. He buckled slightly, cursing, shifting Morgan carefully. Beth could tell he was nervous. Luckily, he was well rested and fed, which made him a far better support for Morgan that Beth and been. Carly pulled Beth up, putting an arm around her shoulders, trying to warm her up, smiling as she whispered, "my brother hates it when I order him about. He'll be sulking for the next week, you watch."

Beth let out a shaky laugh, reaching the end of the alley, breathless when she saw the road led to a walled city, not far from them. The walls were made of scrap metal and she saw the outlines of figures patrolling the top. A few cars were parked ahead. Some barbed wire scattered through the road. From beging the wall, she could make out the spire of a church, some low roofed houses, where smoke rose from chimneys and the mist seemed thinner, less daunting. It reminded her of the prison. A place walled off and safe. A place that had been her home. Maybe this would be the perfect place for a new start, as long as she could find someone to help her move on from everything she had left behind. As long as there was hope. Breathing in the cold air, Beth could almost feel her spirits rising. Relying on hope to keep her going, keep her focused. Rick was alive. No doubt his family was too. Carl. Judith.

"And Daryl," she murmured to herself, the name burning on her lips, warming her throat and chest as she remembered his eyes and the burn of moonshine as it set her body alight, a kindling fire burning bright, still burning with every memory of the moments she'd shared with the man she was fighting to find again.

...

"What'd 'you mean my people?"

Rick wasn't sure he believed Douglas. He'd come running into the dining hall, dragging Rick away from his family, warning him that there was a radio message about two of his people being found in the outskirts. Somehow, Rick could only think of all the enemies who lay beyond the walls and didn't trust the message. Anyone left behind was dead. He didn't have people out there looking for him. He agreed to go to the gate and see who had come searching for him, but Rick wasn't going alone. On his way through Main Street, he took a sharp turn right into the desolate part of the town where the empty houses and storage sheds were. A little further and he was outside Daryl's house. A one bedroom, one floor cabin, with a porch that needed fixing and a swinging chair that was crooked. Daryl was there, fixing the tip of an arrow, lost in thought. He noticed Rick approach, glancing up, reading his friends face in an instant.

"Where we going'?" he asked, slinging his cross bow over his shoulder, expression grave and serious. Rick sighed and shrugged, "apparently they found some survivors out there... One of them said they were looking for me."

Daryl didn't seem surprised. He wasn't. Probably some survivors of the prison attack or worse, some of those they'd fought to escape from. Glancing at Rick, he noticed the tense grimace across his lips and knew they shared the same thought.

"Reckon we outta expect the worst."

Rick shrugged, walking beside Daryl, pushing past some guards as they reached the gate, the mist obstructing their view of the incoming visitors. As the guard let them through, Daryl watched the men behind them. Nervous. Guns ready. People here were ready for bad news. Daryl shifted his cross bow, feeling the strap cutting into his shoulder, shirt doing little to keep the cold from cutting into his neck. He'd been feeling stiff lately. Too long sitting up at the wall, in the cold, staying out for two shifts just to make sure he'd be too tired to dream when he got home. His body wasn't taking too well to this new routine but he wasn't one to let a little thing like body aches get in the way of blocking out the pain he felt waking up from visions of his failures. Shivering, he looked into the mist and waited. A shadow formed, a silouhette of two men, one resting against the other. He didn't recognise the boy or the man but Rick seemed all too aware of the strangers identity, taking a step forward, disbelief in his expression as he muttered the name 'Morgan.' Man was wearing a hat like Rick used to wear, almost identical. Daryl didn't move. He'd seen the other figures approaching.

All he saw was red. Red shining out from the mist. Whatever it was, it led the way, joined by a tall woman he'd spoken to a few times. Cathy or something. She'd been watching him on the wall a few nights ago. The red figure kept going, stumbling. Weak. He pushed past the guard who stood in front of him, feeling a strange urge to run forward. As though he knew whoever it was burning red. Rick was by his side, hand on his gun, warning the guards not to fire. He was walking forward. Daryl followed, slowly, staring at the red figure. Whoever they were, they were small, so skinny that the jacket hung off them. The hood was pulled up but it began to slip a little with the wind. He caught a glimpse of gold hair falling across a pale face.

...

Beth pushed forward, seeing the safe zone clearly now. A city surrounded by tall walls. The entrance gate was open. Figures stood lined up, ready to receive them. She silently wished for a miracle. For these people to be the good kind. For Rick to be there, with the group, with... Daryl. She stopped. A figure emerging from behind the men she didn't know. Blurred by the mist. Tall and strong, walking with cautious steps, hair hiding his face... A cross bow in his hands.

As weak as she might be, Beth found the energy to run, seeming to defy her own bodies limits as she sprinted, her voice high, an anguished scream, "Daryl!

A ghost. Hell, he was seeing her ghost. Running to him. If he blinked, she'd disappear. He'd gone mad. Not by seeing dead people rise or by killing his brother. Beth Greene had driven him mad and he was unable to find the strength to push away every warm memory he had of her. Her hair blew in the wind, her blue eyes focused on him, a smile on her lips as tears ran down her scarred face. Daryl was almost close to falling to his knees, ready to break down and call her name. Until Rick said it. Said her name. Daryl blinked.

She was still there, closer, slipping in the snow as she scrambled towards him. What if... What if she was real? He darted forward, out of his mind, unable to tear his eyes away from her. She called his name again, eyes staring into his for a brief moment before her body came crashing against his, her arms around his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Beth trembled, nails clawing at his neck as she pushed herself into him, feeling his shock, how tense he was, how warm he was. His arms didn't come around her, his hands to busy pulling her head back, forcing her to lean back, palms against her cheeks as he studied her. His eyes were blue, deep and searching, his mouth trembling as he whispered her name. Her lip was cut and his thumb wiped at the line of blood. Warm blood. Warm, thick blood that smeared across his skin. Ghosts didn't bleed.

Words were something she couldn't form, tears blurring her vision of him as she nodded. It took him a moment, a moment to look into her, before his arms locked around her and he said her name again. That gruff voice shaky and pained, childlike. He held her, breaths shallow as he pushed his head against her shoulder and tried hard not to break apart. Right there. It was so cold around them, but the moment their bodies met, she could feel them melt into each other. Beth kept her eyes closed, unable to take in the world and people around her, ears focused on the sound of his shallow breaths and the distant howl of the winter wind. Her head buried into his neck, her lips pressed to his neck, face lingering against his warm skin. Daryl wasn't sure where his body stopped and hers began, but he wrapped his arms around her delicate back as tight as he dared, her legs knotted round his waist. Unsure of how he'd come to hold her again, Daryl felt tears burn in his eyes, his heart aching as though he were back in his nightmare, aware that she would disappear the moment his eyes opened. He heard her let out a breathless laugh, her hand easing up to his head, fingers sliding through his hair, sending blissful shivers through his spine.

As strong as Daryl was, his touch was tender and warm, his hands gripping her back, the pressure of his fingers against her ribs so comforting she had to suppress a deep sigh. He walked with her, a few steps forward, voice an unsteady whisper that made her smile, "Beth.. H-how can y'be..."

The confusion and raw emotion in his voice made her tears fall faster, her voice muffled as she spoke into his neck, his skin warm against her lips, "I said I wasn't gonna leave you."

He didn't need to say anything. She could feel his relief, his grief alleviated. She felt his heartbeat fast against her chest, heard his sharp intake of breath and shuddering exhale. To let go now would mean she'd have to leave him and nothing felt more cruel than being torn away from the person who had been there waiting for her at the end of all the death and blood and pain. If she'd been able to see into his mind, Beth might have seen that he shared her same resistance to separation. His knees gave way, sinking into the snow, and she let out a breathless laugh, tightening her hold of him. There was nothing to say. Neither could form words, nor could they fathom just how they could even start to explain how they felt. Beth didn't need him to speak. Not now. Not yet. She was barely able to handle the way her heart pulsates just being in his arms. Anymore shock and she might die of joy.

It was by mere coincidence that her head swayed and her lips found his cheek. She felt him stiffen. It didn't bother her. Daryl was holding her so close, it might have felt unnatural not to let her lips find his skin. He didn't stiffen because he didn't like it. It felt too good, too soft and warm. He held her tighter, suddenly afraid it was a dream and he'd wake up in his empty house, alone, ready to spend a night in the cold to keep himself from feeling the pain of loosing her. Daryl's hand moved from the small of her back to her hair, fingers weaving through her ponytail, the memory of blood staining the perfect blonde strand making him hide his face away in her neck, breathing her in, unable to see how he'd ever let her go.

"Beth... It's Beth..." Rick's voice sounded a world away but Beth lifted her head and saw him embracing Morgan, thanking him, turning to her. Morgan took off the hat and handed it to Rick, his voice a gravely whisper she barely heard, "had to return what you lost."

Rick glanced over at Beth. The tears in his eyes suprised her, his smile warm, a hand reaching out, resting on her head as though he were unsure she was real. In him, she saw her father and her arms tightened their hold of Daryl, suddenly overcome by how much she wished her dad was here to welcome her home. He felt her lean into him harder, felt her pain, his voice an unsteady whisper, "I got ya."

"I found you," she murmured, the words making her cry, pulling back a little, his head raising to meet hers, her hands wiping the tears that lingered in his eyes. His deep blue eyes. He didn't even try and hide how he felt. He couldn't pull away, hard as he might try. Not Beth. Not now. Not ever. There were a thousand words she wanted to say to him, but like Daryl at that moment, they caught in her throat all she could do was stare into his eyes. Never before had she seen into someone so clearly. Beth was always afraid of being alone, but in his eyes, she could see that she'd never be alone. Not as long as he was here. Gently, she pressed her forehead against his, letting out a trembling laugh, "knew you'd miss me bad."

He smirked, his thumb gently rubbing her spine, tensing at the sound of others approached. Daryl got to his feet, letting her slip down, lingering close by him as her feet touched the floor, his arm still around her protectively. She felt vulnerable without him and her fingers circled around his forearm, his chest against her back, heartbeat steadying her. Douglas approached with three guards. One gave her a harsh glare that might have scared her once, but now, all she felt was contempt, hand on her knife. The others seemed disinterested. One looked too young to be holding a gun. The hostile guard stared at Morgan and his lip curled, looking back to Beth with an expression that openly revealed his mistrust. Daryl's arm tensed and she took hold of his hand, fingers slipping between his, the warmth of his touch making her stronger. For a moment, she was back outside Rebecca's house, with Daryl, staring at a grave, realising she wasn't so alone in the world.

"They come with us, need to have them checked..."

The man didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Daryl glared at him, taking a step forward. He'd cut down any man who tried to tear her from him, armed or unarmed, and it was clear by his scowl that he was all to ready for a fight. His voice fierce as he spoke, "She aint going nowhere."

Douglas winced at the words, glancing at Rick. He looked helpless and Daryl wanted to kick him hard for it. Rick gave Douglas a nod, to which he sighed, holding up a hand to the guard, "If Rick vouches for them, then we trust them."

The guard seemed dubious, looking Beth and Morgan over with a harsh glance, "and if they're bit?"

Beth looked over at Rick, pleading, "were not, but Morgan got hurt. We ran into some people, they broke his leg... The same people who attacked at Dale."

Everyone seemed stunned by her knowledge of the attack. Carly came past Beth, walking up to Douglas, her expression stony and determined as she faced him, "I checked them myself. No bites. The man is suffering from fatigue. Any longer out here and we might lose him, so move."

Beth wanted to hug her but she couldn't bring herself to leave Daryl. She wasn't ready to let go of the presence she'd dwelled on for so long. Morgan groaned as Rick helped him walk, aided by the guards who seemed aware of how useless it was to argue with Carly. She was already moving guards out of the way, her brother close behind her. Feeling Daryl turning her, she looked at him, facing him, speechless still. His eyes searched hers, hands gripping her arms, voice unsteady, "How Beth... How'd you come back?"

"I-I didn't. I was never gone... A woman found me, saved me... The bullet missed and I forget a lot of everything then Morgan found me and... " she felt breathless and he nodded eyes roaming to the scar on her forehead and she suddenly felt conscious of how many scars she had. Her lip was bleeding, the taste of blood metallic and yet somehow satisfying. She wanted to say so much but she was weak and she couldn't find the right sentence. The right way to express everything she'd ever wanted to say to him. He wanted the whole story. He needed to know. Had they buried her alive? Who found her, and how did Morgan come into this? Had she been hurt by anyone on the way... He couldn't make her answer but the questions unsettled him. Her inability to explain it all, coupled with her perfect eyes studying his face, left him unable to push her for answers. All that mattered was how Beth was now. Daryl seemed to understand how lost she was, trying his best at a smile, "can you walk on those legs?"

"I think so, just gimme a second," her voice was breathless and she realised how hard it was to meet those eyes of his, those dark eyes that wouldn't stray from her face, fixated on her as though he were afraid she might disappear into the air. Her body felt weaker than ever and she took a shaky step forward, feeling uneasy as she noticed the guards and unfamiliar faces waiting at the gate. Daryl saw her bite her lip and he swallowed his nerves, carefully sliding his arms around her waist, lifting her up, her legs returning to their place around his waist as he met her stunned stare.

"Can't have y'going so slow, Greene."

Slipping her arms round his neck, she rested her shin on his shoulder, hiding the wide smile on her face. He'd said something similar that morning in the house, carrying her into the kitchen, setting her down for breakfast. Daryl wasn't the type to ask or offer, he just did what needed to be done, but that didn't stop her feeling breathless when he scooped her up and held her, placing her on her chair, a hand lingering on her back. Beth felt embarrassed by how long she'd spent worrying that he might have changed since she left. That she imagined how much he'd opened up to her. He carried her through the gate, feeling her cling to him as they passed the guards, some of whom stared and murmured between each other. Daryl didn't care but Beth hid her face in his neck and almost made him stumble as her cheek pressed against his neck. He'd overcome the initial shock of her return and now his body seemed in need of the slightest touch form her. To feel her this close made the winter seem mild and his life seemed brighter. That was what Beth brought to this world and he had been dying without it. She shifted, her lips by his ear as she asked where they were heading, her voice shaking from the cold. He smirked to himself. Suddenly aware that Beth may not know about her sister. He'd been following Rick but now he took a turn down the alley that led to the house he'd soon enough be visiting daily. Letting her down, he kept an arm around her slim shoulders as he looked into her eyes, watching them widen in blissful shock as he spoke.

"Were going to see Maggie."


	19. Chapter 19

Day one

Beth wasn't sure how she came to be lying here, in a warm bed, her sisters head resting against her shoulder, a warm fire burning in the fireplace across the room. The walls were yellow, almost the same shade as the wallpaper back in her room at the farm. The window was concealed by a deep brown curtain, the room bathed in the flickering light of the fire, casting shadows across the bed, illuminating Maggie's peaceful visage. Her sister had been close to hysteria when Daryl got her home. He kept her strong, kept her walking steady as they reached her sisters porch and Beth almost cried when she saw the name Greene painted on the door. He didn't say a word, he just kept his arm around her, hand rubbing her shoulder as he knocked on the door. She couldn't find the words to say to him but he didn't seem to mind and she rested her head against his chest, so close to falling asleep she almost fell into him. As the sound of footsteps approached, her hand found his and her fingers slipped between his fingers. This time, he tightened his hold of her hand, thumb circling her palm. Her hand didn't leave Daryl's till the door opened and Glenn stood there, staring in disbelief, her hand reaching out as she pulled him into an embrace, only believing him to be alive when she felt his heart against hers. Glenn didn't say a word, he just held her and looked to Daryl for an explanation. When Beth turned to find Daryl, her heart almost broke when her eyes searched the empty porch and found no sign of him. Shadows had fallen across the unfamiliar road and she feared he had faded into the darkness. The warmth of his hand lingered in hers, the pressure of his fingers. She felt alone again, cold, the only reason for her not running out there to find him was her name called out by a voice so familiar, so deep rooted in her memory, that leaving was impossible. Her body almost broke apart trying to face the voice. She'd turned to find Maggie rushing toward her, embracing her, crying and shaking and weeping, apologising for failing her, thanking god for returning her. Beth couldn't speak, she just held onto her sister, her living sister. Maggie was alive. She'd only half believed Daryl when he said as much, but then it all seemed to much like a dream. Beth almost didn't feel the soft pressure of Maggie's pertruding stomach, her hand touching the swelling, looking up at her sister in awe. From that point onwards, time was a blur. Maggie sat Beth down and asked her story, Glenn getting them tea, kissing Maggie on the head as he went. She could read how nervous he was. How careful he was to be sure kept an eye on her sister. Glenn was so good for her. Beth was grateful he'd been so constant, so trustworthy and reliable. If Glenn was anything, he was the man their father had approved of. To gain their daddy's approval, he had to be the best of men. Then Maggie told her about the baby and how she was ready to be a mom. Somehow, they managed to understand eachother through the tears and sobs.

When they finally managed to escape each other's embrace, the room was growing darker and night began to fall. It was hard to guess the time when there was a roof over your head and the warmth of a fire on your skin. Glenn left for his shift on the wall and Maggie didn't let him leave without wrapping her arms around him, resting her forehead against his, his hand on her stomach as they both smile into eachother. Beth felt as though she were spying on something private, something deep and loving. She couldn't help but remember the way she'd held onto Daryl, the way his hands had touched her, the way his skin felt against her lips. When Glenn left Maggie rushed her upstairs, filling a bath. A hot bath. Stripping down, Beth was aware of how skinny she was. Maggie tried to hide her shock but her eyes focused on the outline of her sisters ribs and the perturbing pelvis bones. Her pale skin was interrupted by large dark bruises and grazes. Pulling off her jeans, Beth tucked the arrow from her belt into the heap of clothing on the floor, hiding it inside the red jacket when Maggie searched for soap. Lifting her leg to get into the bath was painful, so much so that she winced and Maggie held her, supported her, lowered her into the steaming water that seemed to take away every ache and wound she'd ever incurred. She felt shivers of pleasure burn through her as she remembered how warm the water was, how it felt like fire, kissing every scar and sore the cold had cut into her. Maggie sat by the side of the tub, helped her wash the dirt from her hair and the blood from her face and chest. Her left foot was bruised and swollen, nails black, skin blistered. Her nails were long and dirty, some jagged from where she'd bitten them in anxiety over the past few weeks. Maggie didn't say a word as she carefully cut Beth's nails and massaged shampoo into her scalp, finding clean bandages to wrap around her aching feet. It was almost as though she were born again, sensitive to every touch and sound as Maggie kept the towel tightly wrapped around her body, leading her to the room they slept in now. Beth was dressed in warm cotton trousers and a thick fleecy jumper. Both too big but she didn't mind. The blankets were warm and Maggie kept her from feeling any hint of the cold draft from the doorway. They spoke for a while. Maggie apologised for not looking for her, for not thinking she could handle herself. Beth didn't let her blame herself. She didn't want to talk about the past. Instead, they talked about the baby, and about how big Judith had got, and Maggie even let it slip that Carol was engaged to Tyrese. Beth was silently envious. Her group had settled in so well. Forged new lives. Moved on. Why did she feel so disconnected? She had a future with Maggie and Glenn, a home, a niece on the way, yet it felt as though she was misplaced. Maggie noticed how silent she'd become and asked her to sing. A few lines into her song, Beth fell asleep and didn't wake till her nightmares returned. When she woke, the world seemed so unfamiliar, until she heard Maggie breathing and watched her sister sleep. Watched the face of the only person on this earth who she knew better than herself. They didn't look much alike, but Maggie had that soft smile that seemed almost childlike when she slept. It was a feature they shared. Reaching out, Beth ran her fingers across her sisters cheek and smiled when she mumbled words that made no sense. Same Maggie. Carefully, she slipped her shoulder from beneath her sisters head, pushing the pillow closer to Maggie, supporting her head.

Silently, Beth tip toed across the room to where her jacket lay abandoned. It was stained with dark patches of dirt and ice, tears across the back where she'd been pulled or fallen. The piece of material was a visual reminder of everything she'd seen and done, and Beth was all too ready to burn it. Crossing her legs, she gazed into the fire for a moment, her hand sliding into the jacket pockets. The arrow. The doll. Her journal. The last sparkler. The tooth. Sifting through the pages, she read the hastily scribbled words that had seemed so important to her once. Memories she'd detailed, fearing her memory might fade. About her dad and Maggie, about her mom, about the prison and what was lost. The last few pages were dedicated to Daryl. Every part of her history knowing him. The pages were stained, some words blurred by tears that had been shed in memory of everything that she'd thought was lost. Blood stained the corners of the pages that had come into contact with her lips when she pressed them to the page. Those silent nights when Morgan was asleep and she was alone with her fears. It felt silly now but Beth remembered how much it hurt to write it all out. Not just because her fingers had been frozen or because her head ached from missing meals. To write her past and all those who she might never see again... It hurt her. Destroyed her. Reading them now reminded her of the pain and she glanced at the fire. Tempted to burn the journal that had no real use anymore. Instead, she crawled over to the dressing table, opening the bottom draw, sliding the book behind the drawer. Back on the farm, she used the back cavity of her dresser to hide her journal. To keep it safe from Shawn and Maggie, even from her mom. Back then, her secrets were about crushes or sneaky trips to the cinema after school. Now, she hid her journal because it contained the memories too painful to tell, though they needed to be recorded. Whatever pain she'd felt, it had to be recorded somehow. For this moments when she felt weak, when she began to feel small and useless. Reading those words would remind her of everything she'd survived. Beth smiled a little. Hiding her journal was also her way of ensuring Maggie didn't know about Daryl. Her sister had no idea how she felt and until Beth spoke to him about it, it was her secret to keep.

It wasn't easy. Being safe. Trying to let it all go. Everything she seen and felt and heard. Only person who knew what she felt like was half conscious on pain medication. Morgan would understand, but he would never understand how her mind worked. None of them could. The things she'd seen out there, they affected everyone in a Different way. For Morgan, he felt sad, he remembered who he lost and it made him quiet and reserved. For Daryl, as she'd seen, bad things made him angry. He'd bottle it up and explode when it got too hard to keep it in. He was violently passionate but it was his nature to keep everything hidden. Daryl had changed a lot but pain always seemed to affect you in the same way, no matter how hard you work to make it hurt less. Beth would have cried or hurt herself, in the past. Even now, she felt tears burning her eyes, but she didn't want to revert back to her old way. She wanted to breathe, she wanted to shut the memories away and pretend they never happend, but some scars cut too deep. Grady. The grave. Walker children. The school. The bridge. Every memory was clear, vividly detailed, burning in her memory. Soem things you can't unsee. Maggie told her that once. After Shawn had turned and Beth had been bedridden with grief. When she asked her sister why it was so hard to forget their brothers empty eyes. Some things you can't unsee. It was true. Her nightmares were a playground for the things she longed to unsee. Hordes of dead children singing hallelujah would often run after her, closing in when she reached the dead end of the bridge, their choir of eery voices joined by the bearded man who tried to rape her. Sometimes she would be in a dream, her family calling to her as she lingered in the grass by the farmhouse, the perfect picture torn apart when out from the Forrest came a walker. A walker with Daryl's face. She'd cry and call his name, running, falling into an open grave that Maggie stood over, crying as she shoveled dirt down onto Beth, burying her alive. Maggie didn't seem to stir when Beth woke up shaking. It was a relief to know her sister would be in blissful ignorance of how broken Beth felt.

Her thoughts were fractured by a low rumble in her stomach. She was hungry. In all the shock and weariness, her body had neglected to remind her of how long it had been since she'd had a full meal. Taking the softest grey jumper from the dresser, Beth left the room and slowly made her way downstairs. The room was large and the walls painted a soft hazel tone, the couch and rug made from similar woven material. As she passed through into the kitchen, Beth couldn't help but wish Morgan was here. She worried about him. Feared for his health. Feared for his heart. He'd been alone so long, she couldn't bear to think of him settling into a life without a soul to rely on. When the back door opened, she reached for the knife that was no longer fastened to her belt, eyes wide as she realised it was Glenn, snow in his hair and coating his jacket. His eyes met hers and he smirked.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

She let out a laugh, watching him pull of his boots, resting his rifle against the back door, rubbing his hands togetehr. The frost had made his cheeks red, his body shivering as he walked over to the coffee percolator. Her stomach growled again and Glenn chuckled, opening the cupboard above him, setting out two mugs and a tin.

"How does cofee and cake sound?"

Beth couldn't help but hug him again. He didn't mind, ruffling her hair, urging her to sit down. As he poured the steaming cofee, she frowned, "where did you go?"

Setting down her cup and the tin, he considered her question before seeming to suddenly realise what she meant, "Oh, you mean my watch. We all get a time slot. Take shifts on the wall. Been tough with winter and all, but it's only a few hours every night."

Opening the tin, Beth was speechless. Inside sat a golden sponge cake, a layer of car,olised apples spread across the top. The sharp scent of cinnamon and apple drove her senses wild, the first spoonful so sticky and sweet she almost forget her question for Glenn. Swallowing the rich goodness of the cake, Beth put forward another question, "who else does the watch?"

"Rick and Tara, Tyrese and Carol... Me and Daryl have the ten to two slot. He usually stays on though."

The mention of his name stopped her from taking another spoonful of food, detecting the sympathetic tone Glenn took when he spoke about Daryl.

"Is he ok? What happend to him?" She didn't mean to sound so breathless, so fearful, but the words slipped out. Glenn didn't seem to notice, he just shrugged, "since Grady, he's been a little distant. On the road, he kinda slipped away a few times. We lost people and I think being here, he feels alone. Rick has tried to help him out but... Dunno what a guy like Daryl needs."

Beth nodded. A small part of her hoped she could give Daryl what he needed. Someone to talk to maybe. It was painful to know he was here, a few roads away maybe, alive and well. How did she resist the need to run and find him? Beth couldn't understand herself. Something told her she had to stay. At least until Dawn. Then somehow she'd find him. Find a way to leave the house, ask someone where he lived. Glenn was watching her with a small smile.

"I'm not gonna ask how you got here Beth... I know you thought Maggie was dead and I've been on that road, looking for someone who might not even be alive... I just need you to know, you being back, it means everything to us."

Beth glanced at him, hardly recognising how much of a man he was now. Glenn had always been that boy to her. That nervous boy who came to the farm and snuck notes to her sister. Who always went to do the most dangerous tasks. The boy with a faded cap and a sideways smile. Now, he was older. Stronger. He was still so kind and funny, but the world had aged him. She could see some of Maggie in him. In the way he watched her, the way he spoke. Strong yet compassionate. For the hundredth time, she thanked the heavens that Maggie had found someone as perfect for her as Glenn.

"That mean if the baby is a girl it's name might be Maggie?"

He smirked and shrugged, "girls names are up to Maggie. Of it's a boy, then my choice. I'm thinking Bruce. Bruce Rhee."

Laughing, Beth took a sip of coffee and shook her head, "Glad to see your taking fatherhood so seriously."

"Gotta laugh about it. Truth is, I'm scared. Being a father... That's a huge responsibility. Another life in my hands. Sure were safe here for now, but... A kid. Bringing a kid up... That's not something I can screw up and fix..."

It was hard to see him so uncomfortable, so truthful and open. The comical facade fell and behind it lay someone with an honest fear. The fear of being a father. Times like this, her dad would know exactly what to say. Wise words that Glenn would appreciate. His hands were on the table, playing with the corner of a napkin, a nervous tick of sorts that told her how nervous he was to even speak his fears. They were alike in that way. Always hiding what was on their minds to protect others. Glenn wouldn't admit to Maggie that he was worried. He'd be too concerned about her and being her support. Beth rested her chin on her hands and looked at him with a firm expression, "Glenn, you could never be a bad father. Your too good. You take care of the group like they are your own family, you loved my sister and kept her safe through everything... I envy any child who gets a father as perfect as you."

"Sure missed having you around to brighten up life," he sighed, raising his mug to her, winking at her. Beth tapped her mug against his, glancing at the window, the early light of day shining through the frosted glass. Glenn could read her longing expression.

"Why don't you get dressed and I'll get Noah to come give you the grand tour."

Beth didn't need to answer. She beamed at him, running upstairs, darting into the bedroom. Maggie was stirring, blinking a few times before looking a Beth with a sleepy smile, hair tousled and perfect. As she rose, Beth pulled on her dry jeans and belt, changing into a blue check shirt that was too big, tying it at the front so it would fit her hand reaching for the red jacket.

"Take mine. That ones hideous." Maggie yawned, pointing to a navy jacket with a fur hood, hanging on the door. Beth wanted to leave that moment but her sister took hold of her arm and sat her at the dressing table, fishing out a brown box from the tone drawer. Inside lay various tubes and compacts that she recognised from years ago. Cosmetics. Maggie smiled as she noticed Beth's raised eyebrows.

"Some of the girls here gave it to me. I must have looked pretty bad."

Beth smiled, allowing her sister to apply different creams to her face, ignoring the sting of the cream against her scars. She didn't want to say how little she cared about her appearance but her sister seemed so happy to do it. Vanity was a sentiment without any real use in the way the world worked how and Beth didn't care about how her scars looked. They were deep and long but she'd got them from surviving. There wasn't any shame in the world seeing them, but she could see how Maggie stared at them. Love for her sister kept Beth from protesting when her sister pulled out a bottle of sunny yellow nail polish. It was an hour before they were done and Beth heard Noah talking to Glenn downstairs.

"Please, just... Just be careful," Maggie sighed, pushing back the curtain of blonde hair that covered Beth's face, staring into her sisters eyes, hand resting on her cheek. She almost seemed reluctant to let her go. Beth gave her a hug, smiling, pressing her lips to her sisters warm cheek as she turned to leave.

"I'll be back. I promise."

...

"Maybe your a vampire now."

Beth gave Noah a playful push. He'd been joking about her return, or her resurrection as he preferred to call it, since they'd set off from the house. The streets were like most neighbourhoods in the city. Rows of white washed houses with identical wooden panels and long porches. Behind them, she could see the wall, ahead, were more houses. Some kids were playing soccer as their moms gathered at each others homes. A girl on a bike passed, a small boy laughing as he sat on the handle bars, closing his eyes as she pedalled faster. Beth kept an eye out for anyone she might recognised, shocked by how many people lived here. Girls her age and young children. All safe and seemingly innocent. None carried weapons or scars.

"So can you see the dead and summon ghosts now you've come back to life?"

Noah laughed as she pushed him again, ignoring the ache of her arms and the sharp pain emanating from the bruises across her ribs. She was intent on acting as strong and easy going as she'd always been, ignoring how traumatic things may have been before this new day. Rolling her eyes, she gave him a mock frown, "You watch too many movies."

Noah nodded, pointing back up ahead, "Can't help it. They show films every Friday night here. Douglas got a Projector running in the town hall. Last week we watched Ghostbusters."

Films. Beth didn't even realise how many she'd seen. There was enough action and adventure in her life, and the movies never really captured how painful it was to get that happy ending. As they reached the end of the street, she saw a large square of grass with a low hedge, snow interrupted by pathways cleared, leading to a playground. Children were already climbing the monkey bars and swinging on the swing set. Their laughter was a sound that Beth was unaccustomed to, her lips curving into a smile, suddenly feeling a little less cold. Noah watched her with a grin.

"Perfect, isn't it."

She nodded, gaze straying past the children and their games, noticing a church with a towering spire. Close beside it sat a building both old and grand, stone steps leading into a red brick hall. Above the grand oak doors was a sign. Town Hall. Families were going inside, some with baskets of food. She could smell bread and cooked meat. Noah explained that the town hall was where they served community meals. Beth didn't expect a safe zone to be this picturesque. She had expected guns and shacks and stony faced men and women, stray dogs clawing for scraps, maybe even a few thugs lingering around the street corners. Everything here was unspoiled. Nothing from the world outside had any place here. The dead were a forgotten memory. Everything here was ordinary. Life went on. It was almost too perfect and she hoped it could last. At least until her niece was born and Judith was old enough to have seen some beauty in the world. Noah told her how the area functioned on an isolated power grid established by the government in case of a major disaster. The wall was built by Douglas and a few others. He said there were places further on for smoking meat and making clothes. There was a school. A nursery. An infirmary. They passed a house with barred windows that Noah explained was the mad house. A place for people who had lost too much and couldn't live unaided.

"Most are suicidal... Nicky was telling me her mom stays there. Tried slitting her wrists when her husband died."

Beth frowned, pulling her sleeves down to cover her own scars, watching the house with distress. If she had come here to find her group dead, to know there was no one left... Maybe they would have given her a room in the mad house. Noah walked ahead but Beth couldn't help but look around, wishing she could catch a glimpse of Daryl. She didn't know why, but she wanted him there. Her nightmares made her fear their reunion was just a dream. A vision conjured by her injured mind. Noah broke her chain of thought by suddenly stopping, waving at a figure nearby.

"Hey Nicky."

The girl turned around. Her circle brown hair hiding most of her face, brown eyes widening as she noticed them. She wore a dress, knee length. Beth was sure she hadn't seen anything like it since prom at her old high school. When Nicky was closer, she gave Noah a dazzling smile that made Beth bite her lip. The urge to laugh was hard to deny. The girl was clearly trying to charm her way into Noah's favour and it reminded Beth of how stupid people her age could be. Or, at least, had been. She'd done similarly stupid things herself, to get Jimmy to notice her, to win him over. It was embarrassing and her eyes wandered away from them, focussing on the children instead. Watching them play. She wanted to see Judith there. Laughing and running, blonde hair shining in the hazy sunlight. Maggie had told her who made it and Judith was one of the lucky ones, along with Carl and Rick. When Noah called her name, she didn't notice, too focused on two boys trying to make a snowman.

"Hey Beth, I said you wanna go?"

Glancing over, she frowned, unaware of what they were talking about, feeling uncomfortable under their questioning stares. Shrugging, she asked the obvious, "Where you off too?"

"The park. Johnny stole some peach schnapps. Were gonna hide out by the old fort while the kids are in school," Nicky seemed so genuinely excited that Beth bit her lip again and smiled. Humoured by how stupid it all sounded. Remembering the old lodge she'd found with Daryl. His voice echoed in her ears, gruff and firm, 'I ain't gonna have your first drink be no peach schnapps.' Somehow, amongst the dead bodies and broken pieces of their lost lives, despite the fear and pain and tears she'd shed at that bar, the memory was a warm one. It was the first time Daryl gave a crap and did something for her that no one else had. Not getting her a drink, but actually listening to what she wanted and making sure she did it. He followed her of the lodge, he listened to her and went with her. He didn't want her first drink to be something stupid because he knew how much she wanted it to be something strong and rebellious and real. He heard her and he gave her what she needed. Right now, all she wanted was to return the favour.

"Wanna go Beth?" Noah glanced at Beth, his question taking a while to make sense to her, his expression telling her he was waiting for her answer. She shook her head and gave the passing girl a smile as she declined. With a toss of her curly brown hair and a soft smirk toward Noah, the girl was off again, hurrying toward the park. Glancing at Noah, Beth tried to supress the urge to grin, watching his eyes follow the girl as she ran. Sighing, she feigned a yawn and gave him a playful push, "You go. Don't let her get away. I was gonna go rest up anyhow."

He seemed hesitant but she pushed him away and watched him go, taking a seat at the bench near the park, smiling to herself as she saw them walk together. Another happy couple. What would it take to see herself so equally happy? Beth knew she didn't care for the kind of relationships people her age had. Boyfriends and crushes and partners. Messing about and having fun. After everything she'd been through, why settle for some idiot ice teenage boy who had no idea how it felt to be broken by a dark past. She didn't need a boyfriend, she needed a man. A companion, a friend, a soul mate. The word soul mate made her kick herself. Dreamy thinking would get her heart broken. If it could be any more fractured.

"Beth!"

Turning round, her eyes filled with tears as she saw Carl hurrying over, in his arms was the child she would always know, deep down, was more her own than anyone's else's. The child who she loved and missed and dreamt of holding again. Judith. Her Judith.

...

After an afternoon spent with Judith and Carl, trading stories and playing tag, Beth could feel her bones aching and the cold became less of a burden and more of an enemy. The afternoon had passed and now it was the early evening, a time when the cold armed itself with a frosty bite and the sky turned from chilled blue to pale amber. She made her own way home. Felt the eyes of the neighbourhood following her. Maggie's jacket hood helped ease how nervous she felt walking alone. She wasn't afraid, just uncomfortable. Judgement wasn't something she was used to. When her boots struck the wooden steps of the porch, Maggie was at the door, smiling as she saw Beth return, her hands resting on her stomach.

"Want some cocoa?"

Beth shook her head. A part of her was reluctant to go back inside. She didn't want to enclose herself in this house, she wanted to watch the sun set and feel the cold... And see Daryl. Her sister wouldn't understand but Beth needed him. Even if it was just for a second. Pulling her hood down, Beth sighed, clouds of steam escaping from her lips.

"I kinda feel like sittin' out a while... At least till sunset."

Maggie shifted. Uncomfortable, but she nodded and closed the door. The porch had a single armchair and Beth settled down, rubbing her aching knees. It wouldn't be a short journey to find Daryl. She knew she'd have to find him. Walking home, Beth had taken the longer route through the neighbourhoods a Noah had shown her, trying to find a place that might be his. None seemed right. Her legs ached but she began to rise regardless, looking up, letting out a startled yelp as she saw a dark figure at the porch steps. Dark blue eyes staring at her, The corners of his lips twitching into a smile as she jumped. Daryl was here and by no mere chance. He'd spent the day worrying about her. Worrying it was a dream. Worried about how he felt and how he would approach her. Last night on the wall he'd asked Glenn about her and almost run back to the Greene house when he found out she'd been crying. Stupid as he felt, seeing her now, he knew he wouldn't be anywhere else, no matter how hard it was to meet those sky blue eyes. She looked better, she looked fed and washed, though he noticed her scars had improved too much. She must have found a way to hide them. He noticed how pink her lips were. How she had yellow nails that matched her hair, that wasn't in a ponytail anymore. It was falling about her face, blonde and in stained by blood the way it had been at Grady... He shook his head. Grady was behind them. He had to focus on what he said now but all he could manage was a gruff, "Was lookin' for you."

Beth nodded, coming a little closer, smiling at him in a way that eased him slightly, "I was lookin' for you. Couldn't find your house."

He shrugged, looking away toward where he'd come from, feeling a strange sort of relief when he heard she was looking for him. It gave him the courage to keep going.

"How comes your out here alone?"

Beth shrugged, mimicking him, nodding at the house, "kinda wanted some time away from... Well, from everyone."

"I'll go then..."

"Don't you dare, Daryl Dixon. When I said everyone I meant from being stuck indoors being the baby sister... I'm not used to being treated like a kid. Especially after everything that's happend."

He heard the pain in her tone. The buried emotions. She'd seen some bad things and he knew too well how that felt, concealing the painful memories. She needed space, maybe even someone to listen. Daryl owed her everything and this was one instance where he knew he could give her exactly what she needed. Before he could suggest anything, she suddenly became aware of his crossbow and the direction he was heading, "where you heading?"

"There's a park just outside the wall. Your not the only one who ain't used to a normal life, Greene."

"Let me come with you," she pleaded and he wondered how she ever considered him able to leave her behind. He nodded. Noticing her shiver. He wasn't aware that the cold didn't cause Beth to shiver.

"Put on you jacket first, can't have you freezing to death."

She did as she was told, giving him a mischievous smile, "Yes mr dixon."


	20. Chapter 20

The snow began to fall as the sun began it's descent. The streets were desolate. Each house bore windows where deep orange light emanated through the glass. Families were getting dinner ready, preparing to end the day. A few men were heading home from the wall or from work in the town. Some looked weary, their day spent on the wall leaving them fatigued from too long in the snow. Most looked too tired to notice Daryl and the small blonde by his side, walking in silence. Beth hadn't told Maggie where she was going. In the thrill of seeing Daryl, her mind had erased any responsibilities she had to anyone else. She felt guilty, knowing he sister would worry, but she couldn't go back. Not now. Not when he was here, leading her to a place where he felt she'd feel better. They didn't talk but she didn't mind. Her eyes fixed on the wall and her curiosity kept her entertained. It wasn't the type of wall you expected to see. Not made of brick or wood. It was a collage of metals. A mix and match of scrap pieces and metal sheets. There was barbed wire beyond it that was electrified, or so Noah told her! and the wall was wide enough for men to take watch along it.

The guards near the gate have Daryl wary looks. As did some of the women who were there with tins of food for those on watch. Beth frowned as she saw how unfriendly their expressions were. The way one of the guards smirked and shook his head. The way a woman looked him up and down and moved away. Her first impulse was to glare back and ask what their problem was, but she glanced at Daryl and saw he was looking ahead. Looking at the gate. They were so close, why delay their escape. Instead, she walked a little closer to him and bit her lip. Her arms brushed against his and Daryl fought the instinct to put an arm round her.

"Hunting again Dixon?" The guard at the gate glanced at Beth with a frown. Daryl nodded. The guard didn't seem up to arguing and unlocked the metal gate that opened with a high pitched cry, rusted metal grinding against itself. The moment they had cleared the wall, Beth sighed and looked ahead. There was the road. The road she had walked with Carly, the alley where she had almost died, the mist obscuring the sight of what lay ahead. Daryl turned, surveying the area, taking her down a side road. As they walked, she felt the scar on her cheek ache, wiping at it with her fingers.

"What's with all that on your face."

She didn't see him notice what she was doing but his statement surprised her. Only then did she realise how different she must look to him. Embarrassed, she replied, "Maggie. I used to love make up before... Seems pointless now. She did it for me."

"Don't look bad... But you don't need it," he glanced over at her, noticing the smile on her lips. He might not like how much powder her sister had loaded on her face, but hell he'd noticed how she looked older. Not old enough to justify his wayward thoughts. He meant what he says. Beth didn't need all that stuff, but hearing it from him meant a lot to her. Scooping up a handful of snow, she pressed some against her face, using her scarf to wipe the snow away.

"Maggie tried to hide the scars but I wouldn't let her. I don't wanna hide who I am... What I've been through," her tone was uneasy but Daryl nodded, checking the road ahead, the park enterance a few metres away. A walker was lying in the snow, gasping, crawling toward them. As he trained his arrow at his skull, he felt his back burn, the scars tingling with the words she spoke, "Everyone's got scars... Just not everyone brave enough to show em."

"Do you? Have scars?" Concern. Her voice was edged with concern and curiosity. Daryl didn't want to show her. He wasn't ready for anyone to know about them and how he'd been carrying them his whole life. As they entered the park gates, he looked at her and nodded, leaving it there.

...

Hunting rabbits was strangely exciting. At least for Beth it was. Daryl had set traps and caught a few already but when they got to the woodland part of the park, he'd handed her the crossbow and told her to try and track some critters down. After a few minutes, she saw prints in the snow, impressed by herself as she found them in the dying light. Wandering ahead, leaving Daryl to empty another trap, she found a small hole up ahead, two small ears popping up from inside.

"Keep talking Greene."

Looking back, she noticed Daryl watching her, frowning.

"Why?"

"Cus' I don't wanna forget how your voice sounds."

He surprised himself by how brave he'd been to admit it. Beth bit her lip dropped the crossbow, grinning at him.

"Maybe I should just sing then."

He chuckled, walking over, stopping behind her, studying the rabbit hole ahead, "reckon your singin' might scare them."

He stood behind her, her back against his chest as she raised the crossbow, silently thankful he was so close. It helped to keep her standing strong. Made the muscle aches and bruises seem a little less real. Daryl was all too aware of how close he was but he was here to help her. Keep her 'd done the same for him. After he lashed out and screamed at her. When he finally let the pain out and remembered what they'd lost. How he hadn't done anything to stop it. She had come crashing against him, keeping his standing, her arms around his body as he hung his head and cried. Cried for everything he lost. For everything she'd lost. For the life he'd started to feel he belonged in. Feeling her now, it was almost painful not to let his hands rest on her waist. She was thin and still weak from whatever she'd been through but Beth Greene didn't need him to keep her standing. She was too strong fir that. When he saw her on the porch, he could read what she was feeling. Misplaced. Same damn thing he felt every time he woke up and looked out the window. Sure she'd found Maggie, found some family to return home to, but Beth was used to surviving and being her own saviour. No one knew how much she'd changed. Glenn still talked called her "poor kid," a Rick had said she'd could finally live a life acting her age. They didn't see her change. Only Daryl knew. He'd been there, seen her fight off walkers, hunt out her first drink, fought against those bastards at Grady. Noah always said she was tough, that she didn't let anyone push her around. She couldn't act like the dumb kids her age. Beth had seen too much to ever be that innocent kid he'd seen the first day they arrived at the farm. Merle used to say the same about Daryl, when they hid from their dad after he came home drunk, belt in hand. He'd say that their dad had beaten the children outta them. Daryl felt the scars on his back ache with the memory of his dad's belt. Beth had her own scars. Her own painful memories that polluted the innocence in her. Once again, he could see how alike they were, and he hated that she could know how it felt to be broken that way.

When a white rabbit appeared from the snow, she raised the cross bow and her elbow brushed his arm, his finger pointing out what way to aim. Beth tried to steady her hands but she felt her body tremble. From weakness or from Daryl she wasn't sure but her shot missed by an inch and the rabbit ran off, her voice strained as she cursed, "Damn."

She moved to collect the arrow but Daryl placed a cautious hand on her shoulder, shaking his head, words warm as he spoke into her ear, "Gonna scare 'em if I get the arrow, there's still a few nearby."

Without hesitation she slid a hand beneath her jacket, retrieving the arrow from Johnson City, feeling him tense as he took it, studying it with a frown, "Where'd you get this?"

"Johnson. Only thing that kept me sane most nights," she murmured, so focused on training her arrow at the newly emerged rabbits that her eyes didn't stray to notice his momentary shock. He widened his eyes, remembering the shot he took when they had set the fireworks off. What made him fall silent was what she said it had meant to her. Kept her sane. What did that mean? Knowing she was distracted, he questioned her, "how'd the arrow help ya?"

Beth trained the cross bow at the largest creature, steadying her breaths, trying to construct a sentence as she readied to fire, "it reminded me of... Better days... Of us..."

Us. She mentally scolded herself for using that word. Daryl didn't say anything, knowing too well they could be treading into dangerous territory if he kept pushing her to answer his questions. He urged her to take a shot. The arrow shot out and caught the rabbit through the eye, the soft thud of the arrow head slicing through the creatures skull making her wrinkle her nose but she felt victorious and Daryl chuckled. Hurrying over to her kill, Beth held it up, trying to pull the arrow out, deep red blood dripping onto the pale snow by her feet. The sight reminded her of the bridge. All the blood that had spilled out from that mans throat. From the woman who she had cut open with her knife... She shook her head and glanced at Daryl. He'd noticed and he held out a hand, taking the rabbit, pulling the arrow out smoothly.

"Not bad for my second lesson."

He shrugged, tossing the rabbit at her, holding in a laugh as it slipped through her fingers, "not bad Greene, another fifty to go."

...

They spent another hour out hunting whatever moved. A few squirrels. Another rabbit. Daryl shot most of them. Beth was starting to feel the weight of the crossbow in her muscles and Daryl knowingly offered to take over. When they'd caught a dozen furry creatures, Daryl stopped by a log, sitting down, pulling out his knife. Beth copied, biting her lip as she tried to find a place to start skinning from, feeling sorry for the limp form that hung from her hands. Watching him slide his knife along the pine of his squirrel, Beth tried and failed to avoid piercing thought the skin and the meat beneath, letting herself sit and observe Daryl. He didn't seem to even hesitate when the time came to behead the animal in his hands. It was second nature for him. Same way he'd killed that snake when they were out there together. She'd found it sickening back hen but not long ago she'd down the same with rodents at the school. Save for the few mouthfuls of hair still clinging to the flesh, Beth had roasted mice and kept herself and Morgan alive. Glancing up at the changing sky, watching the wisps of cloud fade and the violet sky shift into a darker hue, she sighed, feeling almost too free. Too open. Too defenceless. Everything here was as it was. Wild and untamed, behind the trees lay buildings that bore signs of what had truly happened to the world. The snow was tainted with blood from their kills. A pile of frozen walker bodies lay across the frozen pond. Yet she could see birds flying home, feel the wind dance to its song of freedom, and here, beside her, was the man who had once been nothing more than a shdow lurking in those parts of her mind that she always kept guarded. Barriers were breaking down and Beth couldn't help but look over at her companion and be honest.

"Remember when I said I wanted to change."

Daryl wrapped the skinned animal in paper from his bag, putting it away carefully, taking a squirrel in his hands, "Yeah."

Beth glanced away from him into the sky, "I take it back."

"S'not easy surviving out there but y'did.

"What I saw, Daryl... I can't unseen it... I saw children..." The words were so hard to speak yet they needed to be said. She needed to tell someone. It was hard enough harbouring nightmares of walker children and her sister burying her alive, but to never tell another soul of everything she'd seen scared her. Daryl shifted, not from discomfort, but from how pained her tone was. He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't face seeing the pain in those perfect blue eyes, "S'ok, you ain't gotta tell me."

"Who else can I tell? No one else listens and hears me... That's why I wish I hadn't changed... Because I'm not some kid who needs protectin' anymore. I got so much to say and no one wants to hear it..." Her voice wavered. She didn't mean to sound so enraged but he'd brought her somewhere that seemed to entail honesty. It had only been a day but the way people looked at her, with pity and sympathy, the way her sister still saw her as a child... Beth had seen too much to be that girl everyone expected her to be. Whining to Daryl felt shameful and she looked at her hands, surprised when she felt him nudge her with his elbow, his eyes on her though she didn't meet them. His voice was gruff yet warm, "I'm here. Go on."

Slowly, she began to tell him everything. About the children in the store and the crazy woman. About the school and the hall of bodies. She started to talk about Grady and what Gorman had tried to do, but Daryl went stiff and she could see the flicker of anger in his features. The memory of Gorman made Beth sick, but she knew it would seem worse to Daryl. He'd blame himself. Instead, she spoke about the school and the bodies. What she had to do to each one. How the names echoes through her mind. When she started talking about the whisperer on the bridge and how she had to kill them, he placed a hand on her wrist, his way of telling her she didn't need to go on. He could hear the pain in her voice and she was thankful for his awareness. Beth didn't need to explain why she did what she did. Why she killed, why she left the man for dead. Surviving wasn't easy, and men were monsters when there was no law to control their hunger. Enveloped in silence, the burning regret in her mind began to become unbearable. She couldn't say what she needed to say without bringing up whatever it was that she felt for him, but her mouth formed the words before she could rethink them.

"Back at the hospital... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did something so stupid... I just, I had to hurt her for what she did to me, to Noah..."

Daryl stood up, wiping his bloodied hands in the snow, glancing over at her. His hair fell over his eyes and she found herself fighting the small smile playing across her lips. He didn't even realise how handsome he could be. Beth doubted he ever considered how he looked. Same way she never did, but he didn't know how good he it was just the way she saw him, but with the slightest smirk or shrug, even the way he played with his hands when he was shy or nervous, Beth couldn't help but find herself dwelling on these little things. Glancing at her, he shook his head, giving her a stern look, "Your back... Don't matter. Dawn's dead, she ain't gonna come back anytime soon. Before don't count."

Beth didn't believe him. What she'd done was stupid and she shivered with every second spent remembering the moment, but she needed him to understand her, "I mean I'm sorry... For what I did to you."

His eyes couldn't meet hers and she knew why. She had wandered into that unknown territory. Admitted that she was worried about him, that she'd hurt him. Daryl hoped she'd never know just how much her death had crippled him. There was a moment of silence, his expression clouded, his voice low and soft when he spoke, "Were good."

Beth knew there was no point on trying to make him talk about what he'd felt. It was enough that Noah had told her that it Daryl who carried her out, who cried as he took her out of the hospital. He wasn't the type to let himself be vulnerable but she knew him well enough to know when he was hurting. Even now, with her back by his side, out in the wilderness that he loved so much, she knew he wasn't okay. Not deep down. There were a thousand reasons why a guy like Daryl could be unhappy, but something in her just knew it involved her. A distant bell rang. The shift change. Beth cursed. Maggie would be heading to the town hall with Glenn for dinner. She hoped her sister wasn't worried sick. Somehow, she didn't feel inclined to go back and join the rest of the community. Instead, she looked across at Daryl. He was looking over at the fence with an expression that mirrored her thoughts. An expression that she could read in a heartbeat. Reluctance. He didn't want to go home, and he sure as hell didn't want to leave her. Not yet.

"There's a part of me that wishes we weren't here... Like maybe it's easier when you don't have to worry about what people think."

He snorted at her words, packing the rest of the dead animals into his bag, "Never cared what people thought."

"I know but I do... Sometimes."

She didn't want to admit how upset she was by how he was looked at with contempt and mistrust, but there was no way of saying it without letting the secret slip. They were so free out here she felt she could say anything, but her words could have the wrong effect and she wasn't ever going to let what they had ruined by her stupid weakness for him. He didn't look up, wondering how she could ever feel out of place amongst the groups of teenagers he'd seen around. Plenty of them were her age, and he decided to voice his opinion, "Thought you'd like it here. A lot of them are your age."

"Sure are. Girls here like talkin' about how to do their hair or what guys are cute. I heard enough of them talking in town today. The boys get bored and are desperate to screw about with anyone new. Noah warned me that I was gonna be a popular conquest."

She saw him tense a little at her last sentence and rolled her eyes. Why did he do things like that. Actions that made it seem he was as possessive of her as she was of him. Maybe she was just being like most girls her age, imagining people gave a shit about stuff like that, but Daryl wasn't comfortable when she mentioned boys. Might be he was just over protective. Frustrated she shrugged, continuing, "not my kinda crowd. Rather be here... Gutting rabbits in the cold."

Beth left out the last part of her sentence. The part where she said she'd rather be here with him. He smirked, one of those rare expressions where he let himself show just how amused he was, his eyes fixed on the rabbit in her hands, "you ain't even skinned it properly, Greene. Where's your head."

There was something dangerously close to mischief in his tone and she bit her lip, all too aware of how she wanted to give him a truthful answer of exactly where her head was, but instead she tossed the rabbit to him, cleaning her knife in the snow. Her hands were warm with blood and as she slid her knife back into her belt, she noticed how red the blood was against the snow beneath her. Visions of a man clutching his neck, blood spraying into fresh snow, flashed past her eyes and she had to swallow a whimper. As strong as she thought she was, that kill would never leave her. The fear, the anger, the brutality... His dying screams as walkers tore him apart slowly... How she felt his hands around her still... His words...

"Beth?"

Shaking her head a little, she glanced at Daryl, his hand on her shoulder, studying her face with an unreadable expression. The moment she had frozen, staring at the ground with cold blue eyes, he knew she was seeing something he couldn't see. A memory, a ghost of something dark and painful. He knew too well how that felt. It was still hard hearing a gun shot without him seeing her fall to the ground in that hospital hallway. Moment he said her name, her eyes met his and she blinked, back in the present, a weak smile on her lips as she tried to reassure him that she was okay.

"Sorry... I'm a little brain damaged," she joked, standing up, shoulder warm from where his hand had held her. Daryl packed the rabbits away in his bag, breathing in the cold air, the sun setting telling him they should head back but he knew she wasn't alright. If he took her back, she'd be forced into being the Beth Greene who always smiled and listened to her sister and helped out no matter how bad she felt. Carefully, he came to her side, gently pushing her in the direction of the dense trees. Beth followed, scooping up some snow, ignoring the numbing pain it sent through her veins as she used it to clean the blood from her hands, glad to see Daryl wasn't watching her. They weren't heading toward the safe zone, but she didn't care. Wherever Daryl was leading her was where she wanted to be.

...

When they reached the shack, the sky was already a dark shade of purple, dotted with stars that shone brighter than she'd ever known. Beth stared up, the moon appearing as a ghostly outline, awaiting the suns decline into the horizon. For a moment, she lost herself, absorbed by the sky and the ice, eyes half closed as she felt the empty wilderness around her. The cold and the frost seemed to greet her gently, the wind dancing through her hair. Beth didn't even notice Daryl. He was grateful for that. The way she stood here, bathed in the dying light of the sun, gold hair tousled by the wind, a soft smile on her lips... He didn't know what he felt seeing her that way, but the moment she turned back to him, he set his eyes down to his feet, afraid she might see something in him he didn't mean to let show. Beth wasn't aware of the swift aversion of his eyes. Instead, she was staring at the wooden shack behind him. It was small, the size of Maggie's living room maybe, made from old wood that was grey, the roof slanted, a small metal pipe protruding up from amongst the roof tiles. A chimney of sorts, she guessed. The windows were misty, the door crooked, but she knew, at that moment, that this was a place she would love more than any house back at the safe zone. Daryl was shifting the handle, playing around with the lock for a little, before opening the door, glancing back at her.

"C'mon."

He didn't need to tell her twice. Inside was dark, the dying light of day giving her a glimpse at what lay inside. It seemed as though there were two chairs, arm chairs maybe, and a table, and things hanging on the wall. Closing the door behind her, her eyes followed Daryl's shadowy form as he went over to the back wall, striking a match, lighting something that soon began to burn brighter until she could see everything clearly. She'd been right, there were two arms chairs by the fire, mismatched, one acting as a kind of bookshelf, the seat accommodating a pile of dusty old books. The table was low and long, on it were the remnants of Daryl's last meal. On the walls hung some weapons. A few dead animals. Daryl was hanging up the rabbits when he glanced once at her, relieved to see she was surveying the place with a smile. He hadn't exactly done much to make it look good but with Beth, he didn't feel he needed to hide the way he liked things. Hell, they'd stayed in a red neck shack drinking moonshine, this place was a five star hotel in comparison.

"This is perfect... What was it before?"

He shrugged, throwing some more wood on the fire, "Place was a park, pretty big one. Guessin' caretaker had this place. Had to clear out a lot of shovels and stuff."

Walking over to the second chair, she studied soem of the books, recognising a few names.

"These are classics. Alice in wonderland. Tom Sawyer and huckleberry Finn."

He scoffed, lifting them out of the chair for her, putting them on the table, "figured you'd kick up a fuss if I burnt them."

That's when she realised he'd kept them for her. He'd been going here before she came back but he kept them. He kept them because somehow he knew she would have wanted them. He was right, she did. A long time ago, reading had been a hobby of hers. Something she'd do sitting in the barn, or at school when she didn't feel like joining in with her friends at lunch. Sometimes, she used to read at the prison, but the only book around was her dad's bible and somehow it didn't feel right. Religion just didn't seem to fit in with the life they led. Daryl was fixing his cross bow, studying the metal end, so she let herself sit and watch him for a while. All that time spent trying to remember him and here he was, the way he always was, strong and guarded, yet able to tease her like he had before. If she never found a way to explain to him what she felt, Beth figured she'd still be okay, as long as they could keep on being this way. The words just fell from her lips before she could even consider what they meant, her voice almost a whisper, "Ever wish we never left that house."

"All the time," Daryl suprises himself. He answered her without hesitation. Didn't even let himself think about it. The question was one he'd had in his mind for a long while and hearing her say it made him feel better. Made it seem like he wasn't alone. His eyes may have lingered on that cross bow but he was all too aware of her eyes on him.

Beth shifted, tearing her gaze away from him, feeling warmer as she realised she wasn't alone in feeling how she did. About the house. About that time spent with him. She smiled to herself, "When I woke up there... I'd forgotten a lot of stuff but not... Not what it felt like, when we stayed there. It felt like... I dunno.. "

Without hesitating, he finished her sentence, "Felt like home."

"Yeah... Yeah, exactly."

"Y'got a home now," he said pointedly, making her look back to him with a laugh.

"No, I share a home now. It's Maggie and Glenn's house... And my nieces home, of course."

He frowned, seeing something in those blue eyes that seemed familiar, "You wanna be on your own?"

"No... I mean, not completely. I dunno, after everything... sometimes I miss those moments where it was me out there... Calling the shots. Making my own decisions. Free. Know what I mean?"

"Y'know I do."

Beth smiled. They shared that understanding and it felt good to know he wasn't seeing her like everyone else did. He knew who she was now. He knew they were alike and in that moment, he saw himself. Then, her eyes suddenly widened mouth twisting into a. Wide smile, "I almost forgot."

Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved something curved, off white in colour. Taking hold of his hand, she pressed it into his palm. The shiver that ran through his spine at her touch unnerved him but he distracted himself by studying the strange object, "Looks like a damn wolf tooth."

"It is," she sighed, sitting back a little, watching him frown with a smile on her lips.

"Where the hell did you get this?"

With a small laugh, she told him, "on our way to Washington. There was this huge wolf in the road, had to move it out the way and I saw this. Something about a lone wolf reminded me of you."

There was an awkward silence, broken by him letting letting out a low laugh, "my brother used to wear one of these round his neck. Swore he wrestled a wolf to get it."

She laughed, all too aware of the sadness in Daryl's voice. He looked up at her, his face seeming so young and unsure, "You wanna go back?"

"Do I have to go back?"

He sighed and shrugged. Beth was smart and he knew exactly what she meant. Deep down she needed this place as much as he did, but unlike him, she didn't have a choice but to go back.

"There was somethin' i couldn't find for his place y'know."

Frowning, she looked at him, hair falling over her eyes, her lips curved in a smile that never seemed to fade when he was around her. With a glance down at his hands, he looked up and smirked, "damn jukebox."

Beth paused, unable to comprehend what he'd said. He was looking right at her, smiling, eyes fixed on hers. In her mind, she was back at that table, looking into his gaze, seeing something she didn't understand... Till now. She bit her lip and saw him grin. Daryl knew he'd got her and she was all too happy to let him have this one.

"That your way of sayin' you want me to sing, Daryl Dixon."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, studying the tooth. With a small secret smile, she let herself soft through every song she could remember suddenly sure she knew what one would be perfect. Fear for what the lyrics might mean to him was over clouded by how much she wanted to sing it, and her eyes lingered on the fire as she began. Somehow, she couldn't recall the early verses of the song, but her mind was sure of what she wanted to sing and the words she needed were in the middle of the song. At it's heart. In her heart.

"Don't go out

Much at all

I've never been

The type to call

I realize to be happy

Maybe I need

A little company"

She could almost feel him tense up, but she noticed his shoulders drop and his head turn, her eyes focused on the fire, it's warmth seeping into her words. Daryl was entranced by anything she sang, but this song felt personal and though he'd never let her think he noticed, Daryl knew she was saying something in the words. For once in his life, he wasn't nervous or uncomfortable. When Beth sang, it wasn't just words, it was her heart. She put do much of herself in the way she sang the words and he knew this wasn't a song she'd chosen by accident. The words were meant for him and he let himself take in their meaning.

So now you know

You know it all

That I've been

Desperately alone

I haven't found the one for me

But I believe in divinity."

He smiled to himself. Hell, he might as well be singing this song. Words were just as much what he would say as they were what she would. Desperately alone. If he were one of those dusty books she kept cradled on her lap, that would be the title. There was a slight tremble in her lips and he couldn't help but wonder how'd she'd react if he kissed her. Right there. Would she push him away and give him that look everyone else did? No, she wouldn't, but what came after would destroy them. He didn't know the first thing about relationships and he knew they couldn't keep being so close if he screwed it up by acting on a wild impulse. Besides, when had he ever just kissed a girl like that. Never. Not unless he was drunk. Beth deserved better, whether she realised it or not. Still, seeing her upset made him feel crazy. Like he would do anything to make her smile. She recovered quickly, giving him a small smile, eyes meeting his for a moment, noticing how focused he was on her. The words were harder to form, but she kept singing, chest tense as he kept watching her, even when he eyes fell on the fire and her smile faded.

"I found what I'd been looking for in myself

Found a life worth living for someone else

Never thought that I could be

Happy, happy..."

The radio on his belt began to crackle with interference, a voice calling in, asking where he was. Rick. Daryl twisted the top switch and turned it off, looking back at Beth, forcing himself to overcome how turbulent his emotions were after her song. He didn't meet her gaze but he spoke his mind and wasn't conflicted over how honest his words were.

"This place ain't just mine. You ever feel anythin' gettin' too much, you tell me. It's what this place is for."


	21. Chapter 21

Waking up was harder now. At least when he slept, he was always with her. Watching her. Seeing her with Judith, hearing her sing that song she'd been fighting to finish in the shack. In his dreams, he could be there, near her, observing her. He could feel what he wanted, smile at her without worrying who saw. Even in his dreams he couldn't find the courage to tell her what he felt, or at least hold her the way he always thought he could. Didn't matter that he was asleep, that it was a dream, because even in his dreams she was out of his reach. Too good, too perfect, too delicate for him to ever try and reach out for.

In reality, he was living in constant regret. His dreams tortured him. Showing him everything that he could never have, every lost hope. They hadn't spoken in a with and he was trying to be okay with he wanted was in that world he escaped to the moment he closed his eyes. He still went to the shack, but seeing the empty place where she'd once sat and sung... It wasn't easy being somewhere where he'd made memories with her.

Every moment spent in reality was torture and it took a toll on him. He kept to his long shifts on the wall, started working with Tyrese to get the wood stock built up higher. Taking any job that meant hed be doing something other than thinking about her. Tyrese was glad to have help. Every late night and early morning, Daryl would carry wood from the gate to the stockpile near town hall. Deep down he knew why he'd offered to help. Knew too well that he'd been eager to take that route to town so he could pass her house. Pass by and hope she was there, on the porch. Just a brief glance, a smile. Enough to keep him going. Just to see her safe, see her give him that look she always seemed to save for him. Those sky blue eyes would widen and those soft lips would break into a small smile. She always seemed so relieve to see him and he hoped it was because she worried about him the same way he worried about her. They weren't so different. Beth didn't fit into the life she'd been forced back into. Daryl wouldn't ever know what an ordinary life felt like. Beth didn't get on with the people here, didn't run around after the other kids her age the way Noah did. Daryl hadn't been a social kinda guy from the start and here, he rarely spoke to anyone except for anyone from their group.

Every day that passed without seeing her, without talking to her, left him cursing himself the moment he got home and shut that door. Left in the silence of an empty home. A few days had passed since the shack. He'd told her about the dog and let her take him back to Morgan. Regardless of how useless the creature may have been, Daryl wasn't used to coming home to silence. Beth had asked him if he was okay on his own, and as usual he'd just shrugged and nodded. Always dismissing anyone who gave a damn. Always so quick to avert any attention from himself. Maybe it was only right he was alone. Who could put up with someone who never let anyone in. Not even Beth.

Today was harder than most. On his way to help Tyrese, he stopped by the town hall, wondering if Carol was around. He'd been wanting to ask after her but she was the say to find these days. Always with Tyrese or helping train the women with guns. Then, he turned and collided with someone rushing by. Bumping into Glenn. There was paint on his sleeve and cheek. Daryl didn't need to ask him why he was late to breakfast. Instead of just letting Daryl go, Glenn took hold of his arm and nodded at the hall.

"Come on Dixon, you haven't tried their bacon."

Daryl shook his head and muttered an excuse but Glenn insisted. Truth was, he was starving, but sitting amongst the community wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Still, he gritted his teeth and followed Glenn. Moment he entered the hall, he ignored the urge to run. Eight rows of tables were crammed with people. All talking and eating women and kids, men and boys. A few guys he recognised from the wall glanced up at him. He didn't look their way. He focused on what Glenn was doing.

"I'll get you a tray. Go on and sit."

Daryl wanted to argue but Glenn was already in the line leading to the kitchen. Trying to find his group, Daryl wondered down the hall, easing past strangers. He spotted Rick and Carl, passing the seventh table, glad to see the Grimes were furthest from the crowds. In his hurry, he didn't notice a small blonde sitting on the opposite table. Didn't see her look up and bite her lip. Beth tried her hardest to suppress the urge to call out to him. Especially since Judith was on her lap and Maggie close beside her. As much as she hated it here, sat between faces she didn't know, seeing Daryl made her glad she'd let Maggie drag her to the hall. He sat down beside Rick, smirking as Carl pushed a cup of coffee toward him, "can't stand that stuff."

Rick laughed, "my boy doesn't understand how I was so hooked on coffee."

Daryl shrugged, giving Carl a wink, "why'd 'you think he's been so crazy all this time."

Rick seemed suprised by Daryl's good mood, nodding in agreement, rubbing his beard, "yep, I reckon I'm so sane now that I might even shave."

As they continued to talk, Glenn came back, settling a plate of food in from of Daryl. Oatmeal and grits. He was about to sit when he glanced over at Maggie, "let me just check on the girls."

Daryl stiffened a little. Suddenly aware of someone observing him, nervously glancing over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of cascading blonde hair and a pale face. He didn't let himself see her, didn't face her and try to find some way of greeting her. Rick noticed. He didn't say a word, observing how tense Daryl looked. Luckily, Carl broke the silence.

"So I was thinking... Can I have driving lessons now?"

...

Maggie nudged her, taking a swig of cofee before she spoke.

"So I heard Christmas preparations are startin' soon, think you'd be up for playing a song or two Christmas Eve? They got a piano at the church."

Beth grinned, patting Maggie's stomach, "that what my nephew would like?"

Maggie laughed, swatting her hand away, feeding Judith an apple slice, "sure is. Who know, might find you a boy with that angel voice of yours... Once he's been interrogated by me of course."

Beth struggled to laugh. Her sister had been making a few too many boyfriend jokes lately. Maybe because Beth always seemed to be a loner. Noah came round every few days. He offered to take her to where the other teenagers hung out but Beth didn't feel any inclination to spend time with people who had nothing in common with her. Maggie didn't understand how Beth preferred to go see Morgan or sit with Tara as she trained the women with guns. Her sister wanted her to be who she had been before the world ended. That silly teenager who obsessed over fashion and boys and ponies. The girl who never shot a gun or bashed a corpses brains in. Maggie and Glenn were making a new life here and Beth was trying to find a place in it. Someone came beside her, giving her a soft poke in the ribs. Dazzling green eyes met hers. Carly.

"Your sister said you were keen to start workin' on somthing."

Beth nodded, distracted by Judith, her tiny hands grasping the fork that had been carelessly placed on the table. With a swift distraction and some soothing words, she managed to convince the child to play with the doll instead. The doll she had found out there. The doll she'd held onto, praying she would live to see Judith hold it and smile. Judith giggled as Beth gave her a gentle cuddle, glancing up at Carly, suddenly aware that she was watching with a small smile.

"Your good with kids I see... The nursery could use another helper. Play games with the little ones, read books, sing songs. You like that?"

Beth nodded again. Sure she would love to take on the role of caring for children, seeing them smile, making them laugh. The only reasons he didn't say as much was because in her mind, she saw the play pen. At the store. The walker children... What she had to do. How small the bodies were... Instinctively, she looked over to Daryl, seeking comfort in knowing he was there. To her surprise, his eyes met hers. He'd been watching her. Concern was etched on his face when he noticed how uneasy she seemed. It was painful not being able to talk to her, to put a hand on her shoulder and make sure she was alright. He knew when she was reliving the past and he sure as hell knew how difficult it was. It was his fault she'd been out there. His fault she was taken and almost raped and killed... Frustration forced him to his feet. Her eyes strayed to her sister and he chose that moment to walk away. Leaving the hall. Daryl flinched as he felt fingers brush against his, the sound of her voice saying his name. He didn't turn to her. Just kept walking, unaware of how sad she looked, how hard she but down on her lip. Beth wanted to be mad at him, but looking around, she knew it wasn't fair to judge his actions. Everyone around them seemed to look over and study the new comers. Daryl hated places like this. So crowded and strange. She watched him go, forcing a smile, brushing back Judith's fine blonde hair with her fingers.

"He looks as good goin' as he does comin'"

Beth's eyes widened as she glanced at Carly. It took her a moment to realise the girl was watching Daryl, a mischievous smile playing across her deep red lips. Speechless, Beth felt an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach. Anger mixed with a sort of sickness. She'd never known what it meant to be jealous. Carly glanced at her and let out a girlish laugh.

"He's that perfect balance, you know... There's a storm behind those eyes. Tough and dominating yet kinda nervous, kinda shy... He's as rough as they come but I bet he's amazing at..."

"You like Daryl?" Beth cut her off, eager to end Carly's aroused observations, frowning when the girl nodded and shrugged.

"I had my watch with him last night. Think he likes me. We talked a bit... Bout the only guy round here I'd even try it with."

Beth bit her lip, bouncing Judith, keeping herself from replying. Carly was so unaware of her discomfort, her focus shifting to Glenn as she began asking him about paint for the nursery. Beth watched her. She studied Carly's perfect brown curls that reached just below her shoulder blades. Noticed how her eyes shone a brighter shade of green in the light. Saw how curved and feminine a figure she had. Any man would give his front teeth for her to notice them.

"Who pissed you off?"

Without a word, Beth forced a smile and gave Judith back to rick, biting her lip as he watched her with concern. Weaving through the crowds of strangers, she ran out of the hall and sighed, taking in a deep breath of morning breeze, glancing toward where she knew Daryl was heading. The gate. Off to the shack without her most likely. Beth didn't want to follow him. He didn't want her there and for whatever reason, she wasn't about to confront him. She wasn't strong enough. Not yet.

The winter breeze carried with it the soft aroma of burning wood and the light scent of jasmine from her hair. Maggie had found some miraculous way to lift the scent of earth and blood from every strand of hair and Beth had been so relieved. Maybe they weren't meant to find each other. At least, not like this, not in this way. Out there, together, they'd discovered something was building between them and now... Now it was hard to look at him without feeling that burn in her chest. That longing to just say what needed to be said. Fear kept her from telling him, from speaking the words and letting her heart be free of its confinement. Maybe they weren't supposed to find each other, not in this life. Instead of following him, she turned around and walked toward the graveyard, toward the house with a smoking chimney and a one eyed dog sleeping on the porch.

Beth was going to see Morgan.

...

Snow barked with glee as he raced toward her, licking her face, her laugh fuelling his excited yelps. Glancing at the house, she smiled, wiping Snow's saliva from her neck with a grimace. The kitchen door was open, the smell of something sweet baking danced through the breeze. Beth sighed. How could she explain how at home she felt when she came here. Something about the way Morgan lived. The way he kept himself busy and spent hours cooking or reading or painting the house. She'd visited him yesterday, spent the afternoon watching him paint a rocking chair that had been in the house when he arrived. They never spoke much. Both appreciating company yet equally inclined to savour silence. When she slipped into the kitchen, Morgan greeted her, reaching into the oven, retrieving a pie. The Golden pastry and rising steam reminding Beth of the pies her dad would buy in town at Christmas.

"What are you making?"

"Sweet potato pie. Just like Grandma made. You hungry?"

She shook her head but her limped over and pulled out a chair, "your gonna eat anyway, Saint Beth."

Letting out a laugh, she obeyed, sliding into the seat, Snow lying at her feet. Morgan set the pie down in front of her. It was almost impossible to believe that not so long ago, they had shared burnt rat and cold soup out there, where fires were weak and the cold was strong. Everyone here was so focused on Christmas and the festivities that ensued, but Beth only cared about one thing right now. One promise that she needed to fulfil, her voice unsteady as she began to voice her concern, "I wanted to ask..."

"Already done. Convoy going out tomorrow, I'm gonna go with them, show them the way. I figure Rebecca will feel less nervous if I go."

Beth almost cried, biting her lip. It didn't suprise her that Morgan was a good man, that he remembered who they had left behind, but for him to know what she would say... She saw her father in him and it was painful.

"I wanna come."

"Beth, please, for me, just stay," he watched her, relieved when she gave a reluctant nod. He cut her some pie, pushing back memories of his childhood. Of winters spent with his grandma, when his mom left his dad, when his life was so broken. Grandma would make pie because she knew it helped. It helped keep him occupied when he was feeling alone and rejected. When he was cooking with her, when he was focused on something he could control, the sadness wasn't so hard to handle. Beth picked up her fork, taking a bite, smile widening as she gave him a thumbs up, looking at him pensively, "You okay here? By yourself?"

"I been on my own a long time, I'll be fine."

"Maybe Rebecca and Jess could live with you... If you wanted."

"Sure is enough room, but they may want their own space."

Beth grinned mischievously at him, taking another mouthful of pie, "maybe you could woo Rebecca with some potato pie."

He tossed a spoonful of mashed potato at her, making her squeal. Snow leapt up, licking the smear of potato on her cheek. Morgan laughed, shooing the dog away, tossing Beth a napkin.

"Speaking of which... This Daryl Dixon..."

Beth sighed, shrugging, "Let me guess. You don't approve."

"Actually, I don't have any objections. I just wanted to say, the way you two were at the gate... Why ain't there wedding bells going off?"

He was talking about the way they had embraced, how Daryl had held her. Beth almost forgot that the reunion wasn't private. Most of the guards had seen. Rick had seen. That memory seemed so sacred, so close to her heart. The moment she found herself found after being so lost. Reliving that moment was as painful as it was comforting and some nights it was as though she might rather be lost in her memories than the new life she found so hard to connect with. She fell silent and Morgan changed the subject swiftly.

"By the way, here's that jar of pigs feet."

Glancing up, she saw him open the cupboard with the frosted glass, retrieving the jar that was so familiar a sight she managed to rouse a smile, taking it from him, wiping dust from the lid, peering at the murky contents. Wrinkling her nose, she remembered how disgusted she'd been when Daryl first showed her a pigs foot. How he'd laughed at her discomfort and teased her. Morgan set another jar down in front of her, a wide jar with misty glass, the liquid inside clear.

"Thanks... What's this?"

Morgan smirked, tapping his nose, "Moonshine. Doctor Miller had a jar in his confiscated box. Took it when he went to get my meds. Thought you might appreciate it."

Beth laughed and mockingly waved a finger at him, a hand on her hip, "I should report you."

He shrugged, watching her smile fade as she glanced at the two jars in her hands. He recognised the sadness in her eyes. The same sadness he often felt when he looked at the empty bed upstairs or the abandoned swing in his yard. The look of someone who had lost the person to whom the objects belonged to.

"You two havin' a hard time?"

Angry at her own weakness, yet mournful for the lonely ache in her chest, she nodded, frowning at him, "I don't know how to... I'm too scared to tell him."

"I think maybe you need to know who your are... Before you become a part of someone else. No doubt you love him Beth. Don't argue, it's true. Only thing standing between you and him is fear. Don't be afraid of other people... Only thing to be scared of is living with regret."

Hearing Morgan say what she'd always been too afraid to consider made Beth feel a sort of relief she'd never allowed herself to feel. A relief that came with acceptance. She'd never been able to accept what she felt, what she thought she felt. Morgan kept his eyes on her, so knowing, so aware of what was happening. It was hard to meet his gaze but she did, smiling weakly, "You seem pretty wise about this kinda stuff."

He nodded, rubbing his chin, staring into the cup before him, expression distant and pensive, "Only reason I had the perfect wife was because I took a chance. Went for someone who everyone thought was too good for me. Jenny was younger than me, learning law in college. No one thought she'd even look my way. The moment I stopped being scared and took a chance, was the day I asked her out. Didn't expect her to say yes... The way she smiled at me...

A tear fell from his eye and Beth reached out, taking his hand in hers, voice wavering,"I didn't mean to make you remember...

"No. No, I wanna help you be happy Beth. I owe you..."

"You don't owe me anything," her tone was firm, denying him the slightest chance of feeling indebted to her in any way. He smiled, tightening his hold of her thin fingers.

"Fine, but I care about you enough to wanna help. I had so many years of happiness with Jenny. No one should ever be alone because their scared they ain't good enough. Daryl won't be the one to cross that line. If he was the wrong kinda guy, he would have. He's scared too. There's more for him to fear than there is for you."

She felt so unnerved, so close to crying out in anger and sorrow and... Wiping her eyes, she sighed, "I don't... I dont wanna ruin what we have..."

"Beth, I hate to be the one to break it to you... But the closer you two get, the more your hurting eachother. Take a chance. Your lucky your not like I was. I didn't know if Jenny saw me that way... Daryl, he sees you."

Sitting still, she held into the moonshine a little tighter, the words melting into her heart. Daryl had been avoiding her, evading every situation which might mean she would see him. He didn't come to see her like her used to. Didn't ask after her. She never once considered that maybe, just maybe, Daryl was distancing himself for her. He saw what was between them and maybe he was afraid. He wasn't the type to admit to but Beth knew he was the type of man to shy away and hide from what scared him. Morgan was watching her, concerned, and she forced herself to suppress the tears that just wouldn't stop drowning her. Urging her to come into the front room, he prodded the fire and sat beside snow on the couch, letting her take the rocking chair. When he found it, a perfectly carved chair that had been left crooked and splintered, Morgan had fixed it. For her. For Beth. Seeing her now, rocking to and fro, staring into the fire, he almost wondered if someone had placed the chair in his house on purpose. Aware of how he would know it was made for her. Perfect curved wood inlaid with small wooden wings, angelic in every way. Just like her.

"Beth.., remember I promised I'd find you a guitar..."

She nodded, eyes watering as he pulled his concealed gift from behind the dresser, handing it to her, pressing a soft kiss on her head, moved to see the childlike glee in her eyes as she caressed the instrument, playing a soft note. He sat back down, let Snow rest his head on his lap, watching her bite her lip and search the fire with those crystal blue eyes. A song came to mind, from her past, a song she had forgotten until now. Taking a shaky breath, she began.

"I remember years ago

Someone told me I should take

Caution when it comes to love

I did

And you were strong and I was not

My illusion, my mistake

I was careless, I forgot

I did

And now when all is done

There is nothing to say

You have gone and so effortlessly

You have won

You can go ahead tell them

Tell them all I know now

Shout it from the roof tops

Write it on the sky line

All we had is gone now

Tell them I was happy

And my heart is broken

All my scars are open

Tell them what I hoped would be

Impossible, impossible..."

...

Daryl didn't go home. Didn't go to the gate. He lingered outside the Greene house. Sat on the porch steps and lit a cigarette. He didn't meant to stay, and yet he couldn't find the power to leave. Beth had seen him. Why didn't he let himself look at her? Why was it so hard? Times like this, when life was lonely and tough, he half expected Merle to turn up, force him to go head off into nowhere. Hell, he missed the open road. Missed surviving and living rough. It was a life he knew well. Moreover, it was a life so full of distractions that he wouldn't have time to miss his brother or long for Beth. If he could take her with him... He almost hit himself for thinking that way. Beth wasn't his. She weren't some dumb girl looking for some fun with an older guy. Not like that girl on the wall last night. Carly. He'd hated her. Watching him, predatory in every way. Merle's type of bed warmer. Easy and sharp witted. Daryl had barely survived the night without having her drag him away. God, he wanted to leave. Some time out there, being himself...

The church bells rang out, joined by calls for help. Alert and ready, he sprung up, darting round the corner, almost colliding into two guards. From their raised voices and panic stricken words, he identified what had happened. Walkers along the west wall. Drawn to it by some idiot who forgot to turn the electric fence on. A hoard of them just appeared without warning. The wall wouldn't hold. He took off down the Main Street, passing women and children hurrying inside, the men heading in his direction. Carol was by her house, rifle in hand. She saw him, expression grim her face suddenly reverting back to that women who was determined to do what needed to be done. He didn't wait for her to follow, sprinting round the corner and down the alley. The sounds of fists against metal and the cry of men calling for aid warned him that he needed to be ready to act fast. Walkers cries were filling the air. They were hammering on the metal and the groaning was deafening when Daryl reached the weak spot. The metal sheet acting as the main wall was bent, a small gap revealing a swarm of walkers. Men on the wall were shooting but most were hurrying to push the metal back, a few rushing into town to find a way of supporting the ever weakening wall. Without hesitating, he ran to the gate, pushing past the guards, slipping on the snow that had turned to ice on the road, looking over at the hoard. Soon enough, a few other guards were with him, Tyrese close behind. The hoard was suspiciously big. Too big to have just wandered upon this place. A few dozen walkers, starved, gasping and groaning as they struck the wall with their bodies. Some were walking over to the gate, noticing Daryl and the few men with him. His cross bow ended their advances but walking into a hoard was suicide, even for Daryl. Tyrese handed him over a shotgun, Carol by his side as they aimed at the walkers, the guards with them cursing as the dead began to move away from the way, eagerly stumbling over to them.

The guard closest to him cursed bending over, breathing in a way that told Daryl eh was close to vomiting, "damn whisperers must have herded them here... We sent a team out to the borders a few hours ago, ain't come back... My brother..."

Rick came next, warning them to be careful with their shots. There had been a few bullets shot at the wall and almost took down the men on the other side. Daryl cursed under his breath. The guards were mostly untrained boys or men who couldn't keep a steady hand. With the hoard getting closer, he hoped more of their group would come to help.

Unbeknownst to Daryl, his wish was being granted. Beth had heard the bell, ran for the wall, following the men who seemed close to hysterical. People shouted words like walkers and north wall, enough for her to understand what was happening. Most of the men were pushing the wall back but Beth noticed some guards taking weapons and hurrying through the gate. Only from outside could they take down the walkers and she knew they needed all the help they could get. Without hesitation, Beth followed, so small they didn't notice her, gun ready. She'd planned on slipping out of the safe zone after breakfast, just to see the park again, and she'd been glad Glenn hadn't noticed his missing pistol. He kept it under the floorboards by the front door. Beth knew enough about tracking to notice that spot on the floor, the loose screws and raised plank of wood. Holding the gun in her hand, she hurried past the road to the small group slowly clearing the hoard. Carol was there, short grey hair shining out from the collection of dark bodies. Tyrese. Beth came to their side, ignoring the stunned tone of Rick's voice as he called her name. Her eyes weren't focused on the group, nor where they wandering to the wall. Beth was focused on what needed to be done. More specifically, who needed to be killed. A few walkers were close. Carol took the first few down. Beth heard a shotgun and glanced sideways, suppressing a gasp as she saw Daryl, running up to the walkers that were wandering close to the fence, pulling at the barbed wire. Immeadietly, she trained her gun at the head of the walker approaching him, holding her bretah as she squeezed the trigger. It fell to the floor, blood streaking across the snow. She took out a few more, nervous when she saw how many walkers still remained at the wall.

"Shit, Daryl!" Rick yelled. Beth stared out, seeing him in time to notice the walkers close behind him. Daryl was fixing the fence, reconnecting the wire. She knew what he was planning but he'd taken a risk that was too dangerous. Already, he was struggling to keep the wire together in one hand while taking out walkers with his crossbow in the other. The range on her gun wouldn't give her a clean shot from this distance and without hesitating she ran forward, Rick alongside her, both drawing out their knives.

Beth took a shuddering breath, watching Daryl hack at a walker that had been dead after the first blow. He kept striking it, blood staining his trousers and arms. His hands were red with blood. The anger in his face. The fury in those strikes. The fire. She'd seen him like this before. Killing them like this. Being the person he had once been. He was mad and he wasn't going to stop. Killing them wasn't supposed to be fun. She'd told him that once. The way he kept going, the way he looked so angry, so lost. Running aheadshe, dodging Carols grasp, she stopped a little way off from him, stamping down on a walkers skull as it groaned at her.

"Daryl! Stop!" She was close to tears and she didn't know why, but seeing him this way, absorbed in his own world, taking out what he felt with a machete... He stopped and looked at her. The anger was burning in those dark eyes, teeth bared as he dropped the knife, looking at his bloodied hands. His expression changed, conflicted, before replaced by a fiery scowl. As rick and the guards took down what walkers Daryl had left, he glared at Beth. Walking toward her, she stood firm, knowing he wouldn't be coming to her with anything other than blind fury. His hand, warm with blood, grabbed her arm, staring down into her.

"Why the hell did you come out here?!"

"I knew something was happening, I had to help..."

"Like hell y'did! Why didn't you stay back?!"

"You needed help..."

His fingers tightened their hold if her arm, the pain was strong but her anger was stronger. She let him pull her closer, face to face, his eyes shining with a fire she didn't recognise. This wasn't just rage. There was guilt and it was drowning him, his voice a lethal whisper, "You think I want you here? Putting y'self in danger, expectin' me to save ya..."

The words hurt and she pushed him away, shaking, glaring at him.

"I don't need saving! I don't need you playing hero. In case you forgot, I saved myself!"

Daryl felt a sharp jab of guilt in his ribs and he fought the urge to hit something. He wasn't mad at her, he was mad at himself and she had just spoken the words that burnt into him every moment he spent thinking of her. He'd failed her. Hadn't saved her. Hadn't been there to protect her. Yet here she was, putting him first, running after him because she knew damn well he wasn't okay. Somehow, he was still enraged, grabbing her again, pulling her to the gate. She didn't fight back, instead, she twisted from his grasp and marched ahead, leaving him to follow her, blood burning in her veins as she realised how much she hated him. In that moment, she hated him, and he knew it.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm sorry."

Beth gritted her teeth, passing the crowd of guards who watched in confusion, her eyes focused on the road ahead. The road home. Anger and pain and frustration threatened to break her apart but Beth wasnt ready to let the world see how unstable she was. What she had done, what she had risked, was her business. To hell with anyone who judged her. Right now, all she cared about was getting home and hitting something. Hard. Feeling Daryl reach for her she bit her lip, drawing blood as her teeth dug deep into her quivering bottom lip. Her tone was razor sharp as she replied to Daryl, "Good for you."

He winced a little looking up from the ground, grabbing her arm, turning her to face him, frustrated when he saw her avoiding his eyes.

"I mean it. Shouldn't have acted that way... Not with you."

She pulled away from him, knowing she could walk away. He wouldn't follow. He wouldn't call her back. Daryl admitted he was wrong and in his tone she heard his old self loathing self. Beth took a step back and saw he staid frozen where he was. That's what made her stay. Knowing he hated himself so much he didn't think he deserved to go after her. Sighing, she looked at him, unnerved by how much fire burnt in those dark blue eyes, "so why did you?"

"You scared me."

Beth's eyes widened, unable to understand what he had just told her, confused by how uncomfortable be looked when he spoke. He knew all too well he'd stunned her. Shifting, he came a little closer, lowering his voice, "you risked your life out there... You wouldn't get back, I told you to leave..."

"How many times do I have to say it Daryl. I'm not leaving you."

Those words. Those same words. Words shed said to him when he told her to run and leave him back at the house. He'd told her to go and let her run straight into the claws of her captors. Those words had haunted his nightmares, echoed in the breeze, always there to remind him of how he'd caused her so much pain. Beth was too good to see he wasn't worth caring about. he gritted his teeth, unable to look at her, "That's what's scares me. You put me first. Stupid thing to do."

"Get used to it, Dixon."

Beth's tone was defiant, still edged with anger, though his downcast aura made it hard to hate him.

"You need to be careful Beth... We can't... You can't be reckless. Y'got too much to lose, Thas why y'cant follow me..." he looked up, stopping when he saw how her fist was shaking, how her eyes were shining, fiery, expression firm and darkened.

"Why the hell do you think I was out there?! To save what I had to lose. I'm not weak, Daryl. I'm not some kid you can order about and you of all people know that... Or I thought you did! Next time, I'll let you go get yourself killed," the anger was consuming her and she felt nothing but emptiness. A void created by the knowledge that Daryl didn't want her. Didn't need her. He didn't want her near him and that hurt worse than any bullet. He took her arm, the heat of his grasp threatening to turn her anger into another sort of passion.

"Beth you know..."

She pulled her arm away from him, unwilling to hear any more. However empty she might feel, she wasn't ready to stand there and have him see her act like a heartbroken teenager. She'd become much better than that, turning, ready to leave

"Don't worry Daryl. I won't follow you again."

...

Painting the nursery with Glenn was almost too normal. Too ordinary. Too fun. They didn't decorate by need, but by want. Beth didn't remember ever doing anything with him that didn't involve surviving or preparing for hard times ahead. Glenn was the one who always did the dangerous things. Evading walkers, scavenging missions, even fixing up the fence sometimes, when the prison defences were at risk and the walker hoards were dangerously dense. Here, paint brush in hand, lips curved in a permanent smile, he wasn't the same boy she knew. Here he was happy, still driven in that way Glenn always was, but his focus wasn't on keeping the group safe or risking his life to get supplies. Glenn was gonna be a dad, and here he was, getting the nursery ready for his child. She laughed when he complained about how he'd got paint on the floorboards, or the whispered curses he let slip when his painted sun was too oval or the mobile hung at an odd angle. Beth had heard him struggling from her room, Maggie in bed for a nap. Her sister slept most afternoons, staying up late, swearing the baby was nocturnal, dancing inside her as soon as the sun went down. Beth came to Glenn's rescue, eager to escape her conflicted thoughts and the stress of everything that had happened that morning, swiftly coming to his aid. She'd always been good at art and music. Anything creative. While Maggie was the science whiz and Shawn the math genius, Beth had stayed true to her country roots, finding her prowess in nature and harmony. Glenn was painting a mural. He wanted something for the baby to see from the cradle. a sweet gesture she appreciated. Not every dad cared so much. He explained how he'd come by the idea, "As a kid, my dad... He had an oriental garden painted all across my room. Boats and lilies... Even painted in my grandfathers home. Back in Korea."

She smiled, biting her lip in concentration, studying the wall. He'd done a descent job of the rolling valleys and soft pastel blue sky. Fixing the sun, she asked where the scene was from, surprised when he let out a laugh and shook his head.

"Must have done a real bad job if you don't recognise your own farm."

Glancing at him, Beth had to fight the need to cry and hug him. He'd not only touched a nerve, but Glenn had done this... For them. For their family. In remembrance of what was lost. Staying strong, she sighed and smiled, shrugging, "been a while since I saw home."

He nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder, giving her his brush, "how about we make a deal. You finish the mural while I fix the crib and mobile... Then I make you the best damn grilled cheese you ever tasted."

Beth didn't want to say she wasn't hungry. Her body seemed so tired and empty lately, but she nodded eagerly. The paints Glenn had received from Carly were all soft pastel tones and she could almost swear they were all the exact shades of life that she knew from her home in Georgia. Deep green, hazel brown, creamy white, golden yellow. As she formed the trees that bordered the farm land, she began to hum. Only after a minute or so did she realise she was humming the lullaby. Her lullaby. The one her father would softly hum on those nights when she couldn't sleep. When there was a storm, or when she was sick, or after her mother passed away. Smiling sadly, she began to paint her house, her home, swearing to herself she would sing the lullaby to Maggie's baby. For her father. In his memory. A soft melody in tribute to the warmest memories she had of the man who had been the light of her young life.

...

The church was a shadowy sanctuary. Great oak doors shutting out the cold the moment she closed them behind her. The smell of incense was thick. The hall was lit only by the few candles that lingered by the pulpit and along the rows of benches where the congregation should have sat. The walls were painted white and were bare, save for a shelf or two of books, the floor crafted from slabs of worn grey stone. Her footsteps echoed and she feared for. A moment she might wake some lingering spirits. A childlike fear of the shadows flickered inside of her, banished by the strength of who she had become. There was nothing to fear in here. The monsters lay outside. The walls seemed so bare, the only feature of the building that she noticed was the tall window ahead of her. Stained glass depicted a man with a sad face and flowing brown hair, hammered to a cross, blood spilling out from his wrists, his expression empty and wounded. Beth didn't like the depiction and yet she couldn't look away. It was hauntingly beautiful and somehow it beckoned her forward. Her heart almost burst with anxiety when she heard a shifting body nearby, looking to her left, smiling a relieved smile as she saw Carol waving at her, a bible in her hand.

"Hey Beth... Sorry if I scared you."

Beth let out a soft laugh and shook her head, rubbing her neck, relaxing slightly as she came over to her friend, sitting beside her, both looking up at the window.

"Looks like it hurt, huh."

Carols statement made Beth frown, realising she was also studying the window. Beth nodded in agreement, but her wrists felt as though they might have caught fire and she rubbed them absent mindedly, staring at the stained red blood in the window. Studying the crucifixion, she wondered how her father had clung to his beliefs in religion and god. Even in this world, with all the darkness and evil and madness. Beth could barely believe that there were men out there more dangerous than the undead, let alone that some unseen force in the heavens above was watching over the havoc and pain. Silent. Her father always said you can't question gods plan. You take what you have and you fight for what's good. Maybe she didn't believe in praying to the sky, but Beth believed in what good was left. She believed in fighting for something, for living instead of just surviving. Maggie called her a ray of sunshine, but the truth was, Beth was only trying to keep hope and faith alive in those around her. She wasn't always happy, wasn't always that girl who sang and smiled. It took a lot from her to be here. Alive. She overcame more than anyone knew. The scars on her wrists and her face were clear signs of how hard she'd fought to be amongst the living. Morgan called her Saint Beth. Maybe she was here in this church for a reason. Sighing, she sat back and let her eyes wander from Christ to the piano that was hidden in the shadows.

"Go on and play. I don't mind."

Beth frowned and turned to Carol, hands joined together in her lap as she stared down at them, at the pale skin and the lingering bruises, "didn't know you believed in... All this."

Beth glanced at the bible in Carol's hands, confused when the older woman shook her head with a small smile, settling the book by her side, "came here to think. Fancied reading something... Why you here, Beth?"

"Came here to think."

Carol smiled, brushing back a few stray locks of hair from Beth's face, "I heard about... You alright?"

Beth nodded, conflicted for a moment. Carol was the mother figure she had turned to so often. The woman who helped her care for Judith. The strong fighter Beth always looked to become. Here she was. Changed, yet still so lost. Looking over at Carol's concerned gaze, Beth decided to trust in her, "It ain't all about Daryl... Sometimes... "

After a lengthy silence, Carol slid a hand into hers and smiled reassuringly, "Go on."

"Sometimes I'm too scared to be happy. I can't... I'm scare it might all just... Fade. Everyone's so used to me being the one who hopes and dreams and smiles... But after all I've seen and all I had to get through... I'm so scared that the moment I let myself be happy, it'll all just fade away..."

Unable to form the rest of her sentence, she watched Carol, fingers trembling. She had spoken her true fears and they seemed more real now. Beth was afraid of losing this new life. She felt so disconnected and out of place at times but she was afraid for those she loved. For Maggie and Glenn and the baby. For Rick and Judith and Carl. For Carol and Tyrese and... Daryl. Deep down she knew she would never find the courage to face him again. Not because they had fought, but because she could never tell him. She could never open herself up and let him know she wanted to be there with him. In case he said he wanted her, and after brief moment of happiness, she'd be lost again. Thrown out into the wild where she would lose everyone. The fear was consuming her and she closed her eyes and tried to banish away the insecurities that plagued her, startled when Carol placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to face her

"You don't need to be afraid Beth, and if you want something so bad that it scares you this much... Then go for it. Back... Back when I had Sophia. When she was just a babe in my arms... I was scared because I knew I needed to leave Ed. So scared that I never... I never left... And I regret it every day. Every day, Beth. We can't let fear stop us from finding happiness. I swore to myself I'd stop caring, look after myself... Then Tyrese came along and I found the group... And I knew I couldn't be alone. No one can be alone."

Beth took a shaky breath and nodded, eyes shining bright as she forced a smile, "I'm such a mess right now... I can't shake what I saw... What I did..."

"We've all seem some... Awful things. Lost people we loved. Killed people because we had to. What matters... What matters is we carry on. Care for those who need us and love the people who want to love us."

Taking Beth's hand, Carol led her through the isle and up to the piano, dusting the seat, urging her to sit. As Beth tested the keys, Carol smiled and watched her, comforted to see her so enthralled. She saw Sophia in Beth's smile. In her happiness. Her daughter had always made life seem better than it was when she smiled. Ed didn't give her much reason to smile but Sophia would keep Carol from breaking apart. Stopped her from drowning in grief and dispare, no matter how hard she was hit or how imprisoned she felt. Even now, with hair almost covering her ears, Carol could hear Ed shouting. Warning her to cut it. To stop being a desperate whore. Carol took a shaky breath, fingers grasping Beth'a shoulder, voice uneven but strong, "Daryl didn't stop lookin' for you. Even when everyone else gave up. He's a good man. People might say he needs some fixin..."

Beth froze, eyes darting to Carol's, frowning, "I don't wanna fix him... It's not love if you want to change someone. You love them for who they are, what they are..."

"Love. Now that's the word I was looking for."

Carol smirked as Beth blushed and looked down at her fingers, pressing down a few keys, starting a song she just couldn't continue with. The word she had said was one she could not take back. Just as her fears were more real when spoken, Beth felt the weight of that word. Love. A word she had used so causally in the past. A word that never had such gravity. A different feeling emanated through her. One that made her stomach ache and her chest tighten. Breathless, she replied, "He doesn't..."

Carol let out a soft laugh, walking away, her words echoing as she walked toward the doors, "No one knows Daryl better than we do... Which is why I'm tellin' you now... Don't be afraid."

...

"Over there is great, Daryl."

Tyrese motioned to the pile of timber lingering in the square. They'd been working on moving the stockpile closer to town since the afternoon. Hell, Daryl had been eager to do anything that kept him from facing what had gone down earlier that day. At least here, his sweat dried in the cold and the wind chilled his aching muscles, the feeling of pain and weariness leaving little room for thoughts of regret and anger. He was focused on moving wood. On helping Tyrese. Everything else was a problem for another day. Someone was headin over from the church, Daryl heard footsteps and a familiar laugh, his eyes straying from the pile of wood to the woman standing close by. It was Carol. Her face was almost angelic in the soft light emanating from the dim street lamps. Her hair was longer, eyes brighter, but he could read her expression. What lay behind the smile. As Tyrese kissed her and left them, she approached Daryl, studying him for a second, wrapping her arms around herself as the breeze blew harder.

"How you doin'?"

He shrugged and murmured a 'fine' that made her sigh in frustration, saying his name, tone warning him of how much she really knew. Trying to pretend things were fine would be stupid. Not when he was with her. Carol knew him too well.

"Messed up. Nothin' new there."

"Except this time, your not just hurtin' yourself, Daryl. Your hurtin' Beth."

He looked up, frowning, nodding, all too aware of how right she was, "Maybe... But she gotta get over it. She's better off without havin' t'worry about me."

"Daryl.. You should know better than anyone... Once you care about someone that way... You can't turn it off. I saw you when she was gone... Didn't matter that she was dead. You never got over it. So why should she."

He hated how clearly Carol saw things. How dumb she made him feel. Hell, he had always known it would end up like this. He wasn't good enough. He'd never counted on Beth feeling anything for him, and seeing her out there, hearing how she said his name... It made it harder to save her from ending up like everyone else who ever cared about him. Carol didn't get that but she sure as hell made it hard to find a reason not to go running after Beth. The bell tolled. Tyrese left for his shift at the wall, offering to walk Carol home. As she left, she hesitated, turning to Daryl with a pleading look.

"Don't talk to me. Talk to her. She's in the church."

Warily, he walked up to the church, slowing at the door, the soft sound of piano leaving him with no choice. He had to go in. He had to hear her play. No better sound in the world than hearing Beth play. Carol had left it open a little and getting in silently was easy. He slid into the back row, sat low, watching the small blonde figure at the piano. She might be a ghost with how pale her hands were, how willowy a frame she had. Her voice was soft, phantom like traveling through the room, making the candle flames dance.

"Come on

"Hello world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

There's someone I've been missing

I think that they could be

The better half of me

They're in the wrong place trying to make it right

But I'm tired of justifying

So I say to you..

Beth paused, sliding a hand through her hair, tossing it back, shoulders shaking slightly as she took a breath. Her father was on her mind. Her lost life, her lost family. Her mother and her brother. She was mourning them and Daryl knew it. He needed to go to her. Comfort her. Take her somewhere warm and safe and... He looked down, wishing for a moment that he had some answer to her grief. Some way of giving her the miracle cure for grief. Sad truth was, there was no way of getting over people you lost. He still missed Merle and it still hurt. Only difference was, he was used to being abandoned. When she started singing again, her voice was weaker and he hated himself for staying there, watching her in pain.

"Come home

Come home

Cause I've been waiting for you

For so long

For so long

Right now there's a war between the vanities

But all I see is you and me

The fight for you is all I've ever known

So come home..."

He didn't mean to leave her alone with her thoughts. To abandon her in the shadows where her demons lay. Her song called out to him, beckoning him toward her, making his head ache as he fought the need to call her name and take her hand. What kept him away? Why was he so reluctant to bridge the gap between them? With a silent sigh he knew the reason. Beth didn't just deserve an apology. Beth deserved better. If he went over to her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from acting on every impulse harboured in his soul. Worse part was, he knew she wouldn't fight him. Something told him Beth would let him say what he felt and touch her the way he had when they had reunited. Maybe she might say... He ducked a little as she turned, relieved to see Beth didn't look behind her, instead, she pulled her jacket closer and kept playing, too weary to keep singing. Her fathers lullaby came to her mong, from the emptiness of the room, the tune soft on her lips as she slowly played the keys, practising the melody a few times before trying to sing the words, her voice suddenly strained.

"You are my sunshine

My...only sunshine

You make me happy..."

Slamming her hands down on the keys, Beth pressed her head in her hands and wiped the tears, sick of feeling alone and pathetic, startled when she heard the door close, spinning round. The room was empty but she hadn't imagined the sound. The creak of oak and shuffle of feet. Maybe her song had brought her father back. Maybe the old song had the power to summon the dead that lay at rest.

"Or maybe I'm just crazy," she whispered, standing up, staring up at the glass window one last time. There was Christ, bleeding for his peoples sins, staring into the darkness. A symbol of hope to some. Just like she had been. For Maggie, for Carl, for Daryl... Maybe she wasn't a saint, but Beth knew that she had a reason to keep fighting. To keep believing in a better future. Not for anyone else, but for herself. Crawling out of a grave, losing her memory, crossing the country, fighting to live... She'd done too much, proved herself too string, to linger here in the the shadows. There was too much too embrace, too many opportunities to take. As much as it hurt to know she might never have Daryl beside her, Beth knew her path had to be forged. Maybe when she was ready, when she had her own direction, Daryl might cross her path. Maybe then, she'd be brave enough to take that leap of faith and tell him. To tell him... She sighed, smiling through the tears.

"I love you Daryl Dixon."

...

The morning brought with it a sunny spell that melted some of the lingering frost that had settled on the park playground. Sky a hazy day dream of pale gold, streaked with cold grey clouds that warned of how brief a visit the sun would have that day. The few rays of sunshine seemed to call out for company, drawing out the children of the safe zone who had been bored of staying indoors waiting for spring. As cold as it was, they seemed undeterred. Cheeks red, jackets buttoned up tight, smiles bright. It was as though summer had never died. Beth watched them from the bench just outside the play area gate. Watched two boys throw dirt at eachother and run up to the monkey bars. Watched a small blonde girl squeal with glee as she slid down the slide, emerald eyes shimmering as she stared up at the sky and pointed excitedly to the birds flying over them. They all seemed content in their games. Engrossed in their own worlds. Imagination crafting a thousand adventures to keep them laughing, taking on dreamy persona's as they ran together. Cops and robbers. Doctor and patient. Games she'd forced Shawn and Maggie to play all those years ago. Her father always made time for her games. Life was lonely on the farm. Isolating at times. He'd play pretend vets and let her bandage up the horses leg. He would give her seeds from the barn and tell her to feed the hens like a real farmers wife would. In the summer, when Maggie and Shawn were away and days were long and lazy, he'd take her to the park.

How long had it been since Beth had visited such a place with her father? Years had passed, a decade maybe, but the memories were clear as though they had happend hours ago. Beth almost felt him there, almost saw him by the swings. The swings. How many hours had she spent swinging as her father pushed her. He'd sing to her as she swung higher. Always the same song. Their song. A song she'd never sung since he died and may never sing again. The pain was too real. Locked in the lyrics were memories too pure for this world. Too good. Here she was, alone, longing for a time of innocence that could never be restored. Her life now required for her to be strong and thick skinned, but Beth wanted, just for a moment, to feel like herself again. Breakfast at home had been nice. Maggie made pancakes and Beth had helped, enjoying the jokes her sister made, adoring the kick of the baby's foot against her hand when her sister alerted her to it's movement. When Glenn came home, he'd joined in, all sitting and talking and being a family... Except that when Glenn went to bed and Maggie left to see Tara, Beth was alone. She was grateful to have her sister and Glenn, but she wanted to belong to someone. To be looked at the way Glenn looked at Maggie. To feel safe when she opened the door and looked at the wall. To know that no matter what happened, she wouldn't be alone. Not again.

Morgan had left to find Rebecca and Jess. Beth had got up early, fleeing the house just in time to catch a glimpse of the SUV leaving through the gate. Snow was howling when she reached Morgan's house and she stayed with him a while, comforting the distraught creature. He was getting fat lately, used to rich meals and nights by the fire with his newfound master. She meant to take him home but he seemed so comfortable on the couch that Beth decided to take a walk and come back for him. That was how she found her place here. Out in the square, enjoying the solace and the lingering sunshine. A few woman passed her, talking energetically about Christmas and plans to bring in christmas trees from outside the wall. Beth hoped Maggie might be among them, but all were unfamiliar. Some cast her pitying looks which she loathed more than the frowns and sneers from some of the other women who were all too willing to show how little they liked outsiders.

Her wish for company was answered. Noah came beside her, a paper bag in his hands. Without a word, he held it out to her, her mouth twisting into a smile as she recognised the bags contents. Cookies. Taking one, she took a bite, eyes still drawn to the children playing, nudging him with her shoulder.

"You been okay?"

He nodded, staring at his whistle sneakers. They had a faded symbol she hadn't seen in a

long while. A sports insignia her brother used to have on most of his jerseys. Noah sounded weary when he spoke, "I'm tired of sitting around... Did enough of that at Grady's. I wanna find my uncle, but doesn't seem like their happy about it."

Beth remembered that Noah had lost someone. His uncle. Whether he was alive or not, she understood his need to find out, "did you talk to Rick?"

He nodded and shrugged, taking a cookie in his hand, neglecting to take a bite, "he said to wait till Morgan got back."

"Who went with Morgan?"

Noah tapped his lip with the crumbling biscuit, "erm... Tyrese and Sasha, then two guards from stockpile. They sent out a team to clear the road... Almost caused a war when Morgan ordered them to give him a car but Rick managed to negotiate."

"What are they gonna do about the whisperers?"

"Send out patrols, find the missing people. Apparently there's an old safe zone north of here near Washington. Whisperers been using it. Rick said he'd be going out with them..."

"With Daryl?" The question was swift and edged with concern. She didn't mean to ask, it was instinct. A part of her needed to know Daryl was okay.

Noah sighed and shrugged again, looking apologetic, "I'm sorry Beth, I have no idea. I'm getting all this from gossip and what Carl tells me."

She nodded, looking at the kids, frowning when she saw them leaving, running off. Some teenagers had arrived at the park. A group of girls with stern faces and loud voices. One of them cackled as she sprawled out over the play island, the other perched on the swings or collapsed on the floor. A boy was with them, mouth glued to one of the thinner girls as they made out by the tree. Some smoked, another carried a bottle of murky brown liquid. The innocence was replaced by depressed souls. Beth could see it in their faces. They were looking for distractions. Looking for ways to take their minds of what lay ahead. Beth didn't want to be here anymore but Noah sat back, seemingly relaxed, and she didn't want to be the one to flee. Three of the heavier set girls climbed over the gate and lingered closer to the bench, one watching Beth with a look of disgust. Beth didn't care.

"... And those newbies get the best shifts. My brother got moved to stockpile duty to help that black guy, Tyrese."

Their conversation caught Beth's attention, her eyes straying to the larger girl who seemed to agree, using some racial profanity that made Noah lean forward.

"Worst is that archer. Some hick bastard looking to rape one of ours. Should have seen him yesterday, Jamie said he was trying to do it with a dead one."

Beth couldn't believe she had heard the words spoken by the girl. She might have believed herself to be imagining the cold comment had she not looked over at Noah and seen him flinch. His mouth was set in a grim expression, eyes focused on the girl who had spoken. Beth gripped the bench, nails digging into the splintered wood as she tried to banish what she had heard. Noah warned they should go but the girl began to talk again, voice lower thought he words 'red neck' and 'dangerous' told Beth all she needed to know. Without a word she stood and walked over to the girl, whose friends glanced at her warily, backing away. The girl was older than her by ten years maybe, taller and fatter, looking at Beth with a smile, as though she were thoroughly amused. She was the well fed, big boned type who could throw Beth over her shoulder if she wanted to. Beth was faster, lighter, but if things got rough her chances of winning in a fight weren't good. As always, the odds were stacked against her, and as always, Beth didn't care. She glared at the taller girl. Beth wasn't looking for a fight but she wasn't about to let the girls comments go unaddressed,"Don't talk that way about people you don't know."

The girl let out a snort of laughter, looking down at Beth with a smirk, "Ease up Barbie, wouldn't want to find yourself with anymore scars than you already got."

With a final sneer, the girl walked to the side, about to pass Beth, fat fists clenched at her sides. Douglas had been sure to tell Beth how some people here didn't trust new people, how some could be a little wary. This girl wasn't being wary, she was being vicious, and Beth wouldn't stand for it. A part of her urged for her to let the girl go, but as she passed, Beth heard her whisper. It was low and sharp, almost like a the tip of a knife slipping silently into her ribs.

"Helpless bitch."

Before she was even aware of how her body was reacting, Beth had pushed the girl to the ground, falling on top of her. The girl scratched and clawed the air, hair obstructing her vision. Without hesitation, Beth's fist made contact with the girls nose, a sickening crack followed, joined by the girls anguished cries. Spurred on by pain and rage, the bloodied girl pushed Beth off her, grabbing her hair, dragging her to her feet. Beth tried to free herself but a punch to her eye came swiftly, followed by a kick to her stomach, old wound and lingering bruises crippling her. The girl lifted her up, jabbing a fat finger in her face. Her breath was warm and steam rose from her mouth.

"How dare you try..."

The girl was silenced by Beth's teeth enclosing around her finger, son long deep into the skin, blood filling her mouth. She wasn't sure how deep the bite was but when the girl pulled her finger free, Beth could swear she saw a brief glimpse of bone. She spat blood and pulled away. Them, Beth was falling to the floor, head striking the ground hard. Through her blurred vision she saw Noah and other unfamiliar faces holding the girl back, another coming over to her, helping her stand. Beth pushed the stranger away, spitting blood, her right eye throbbing, cheekbone aching. A whistle sounded and Beth groaned as she noticed a group of guards running over. She was screwed, spitting more blood, some striking the uniform of the nearest guard. Noah came to her side just as the first guard drew out a pair of handcuffs, warning her to stay still. Beth didn't resist. Why would she? She'd made her point. Glaring over at the bloodied girl, Beth smirked, voice loud and threatening.

"You fucked with the wrong person!"


	23. Chapter 23

They spent hours in Douglas' office. A square room on the top floor of a two storey apartment building. It looked like a nursing home and had become the base of operations for the guards and the safe zone leaders. Rick spent a lot of time here. Beth wished he was here now. Instead, they remained inside the room with a guard stationed outside. Through the small window that overlooked the south wall, Beth could see the sun descending, though she could almost swear it was night already as the clouds above grew darker and more menacing. The room that acted as their prison was alot like the man to whom it belonged. Everything was organised, every book uniform in size and order, every map or loose paper stacked neatly atop the desk that gave little indiction to who Douglas was. He was a man who didn't show much of what lay behind his formal manner. Always playing the part of a composed mediator. A leader who didnt want to believe there could be trouble behind these walls. Maybe that was why he left no trace of his own life in a place like this, where he spent most days and nights.

No photos of his family, no novels, not even a name plaque. Sterile white walls. Sterile white floor. The only feature to the room were Beth and Noah, handcuffed to the chairs that faced the desk. They'd been led in and told to wait an hour ago. Beth had been watching the clock. Time was a luxury she'd long since needed, but since Grady, her regard for clocks was somewhat changed. Time was important when you needed to escape.

Noah kept staring at her. She knew why. The throbbing pain around her right eye told her she was bruised, her cheek bone aching everytime she dared to let her fingers touch the swollen skin. There weren't any mirrors in the room but Beth wouldn't be surprised if she had a black eye. The thought made her smile. Daryl was usually the one with a black eye or some other painful bruising on his face. He never seemed to notice and Beth took comfort in knowing she wouldn't be the only one to ignore the pain.

"Beth hows the.. You look fine. Good. You should have seen her face..."

Noah began, stopping when she smirked at him, suddenly unable to to resist the need to laugh. She wasn't sure why but that moment seemed hilarious in some unnamed way. Noah broke his confused frown with a wide smile, chuckling. Beth felt young again. Sure her face hurt when she smiled and her lip bled as she laughed, but she wasn't scared anymore. She was proud of herself. Beth had stepped in and taken a stand. She fought back even when her chances of winning the fight were slim. The girl had slandered her group, had called Daryl... Noah was right. The other girls face was bad. A broken nose was serious, and Beth was sure she might have knocked a tooth lose, and as for her finger... The fight was a blur but she remembered the crack of bone and saw the cuts on her knuckles, still bleeding. Still tasted the blood lingering in her mouth.

"For what it's worth, you did the right thing... I'm with you on this," Noah's words were firm and honest and she slipped her hand in his, so glad shed taken a bullet for him. So glad he was here.

When Douglas finally decided to end their wait and show up, he wasn't alone. Maggie was there, expression dark, cheeks tinted red from the walk here. Beth suddenly felt guilty. Her sister wasn't having an easy pregnancy. Walking tired her and this was the time when she usually slept. Maggie didn't let the fatigue show. The moment she saw the handcuffs and Beth's face she began yelling and Douglas seemed all too understanding, freeing Beth instantly, apologising. Maggie demanded to hear the story and looked to Beth, who refused to speak. She didn't want to cause trouble, her fight was her business. Her sister looked more shocked than angry at Beth's silence, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to study the bruising on her face. When Noah told the story of what had occurred, Maggie shot a warning glare at Douglas who insisted there would be a full investigation. It was Beth who silenced them by insisting they let it go. She didn't want to drag this out, she'd proven what she needed to prove. No doubt the girl would be keen on revenge but if this became anything more than it already was, it might cause tension between her group and the people here. Beth wasn't ready to be the reason for more violence. All she wanted was to get free of her handcuffs and drown her face in the snow outside. The pain was numbing and the room was suffocating. Freedom was all she longed for. Looking toward the window, she could almost see over the wall, noticing the familiar trees that surrounded the park, far off toward the distant city. How far away that sanctuary seemed. That little shack that felt like home. Beth had left a piece of herself there, nestled by the open fire. Lingering in the embers of what had once burnt so bright. A fire kindled by two souls, torn apart by what lay outside of their safe haven. Whatever force had drawn them apart, Beth knew she couldn't move on without mending what was broken. She would rather find a friend in Daryl than let him become a stranger. It didn't matter how much her heart might break every moment she spent with a man who couldn't be hers. Right now, she needed him, and he needed her. Maybe with him beside her, Beth could try and find a way to settle in this new life. This was her last attempt. Her last fight for him. The last time.

...

Nights were colder as winter settled in. While the day had been blessed with a brief spell of sunshine, the night was cursed with cold winds and heavy snow. It might have been unbearable to stay outside had the guards not brought firewood to every house, risking the use of most of the wood stockpile for fear of death. No one here had died in a while and they were keen on keeping everyone alive. When the guards brought Daryl a bundle of wood, he was already on his porch, cleaning his crossbow as he lost himself in his thoughts. When he noticed the wood, he knew there was no way he'd be going inside. House was too empty. He couldn't stand hearing the echo of his footsteps or the deafening silence that coursed through the empty space. Without much thought, he collected the wood and dumbed it in the silver can they'd given for trash, lighting it up. Makeshift bonfire keeping him warm enough to stay out here and avoid these silence. At least out here he could hear the wind howling and the distant trees shaking.

Thud. The knife in his hand had hit wood and got stuck. It was his way of keeping busy, playing darts with his hunting knife. He kept throwing the knife at the door to the house, his makeshift target, as he stood on the porch with his back to the world. Didn't matter who passed, he just kept aiming for the deep incision he'd carved into it. An hour throwing a knife into a door tended to leave a mark. Same way thinking of her left him cut up on the inside. Nobody hated him more than he did at that moment. He'd waited outside the church for another hour after he left last night, waited to see her leave, hidden in the shadows of the park square. He tailed her home, made sure she got inside before he went wandering through the streets, drowned in self loathing. Beth was so alone and he just watched her suffer, watched her feel isolated and unwanted. Didn't even try and apologise again, too fearful that he'd hurt her more by trying to explain why she needed to move on from whatever it was burning between then.

When Noah had passed him that afternoon, he noticed how nervous he seemed and made him talk. The kid was hesitant at first, but he was all to eager to let the secret spill. Thats why Daryl was here, attacking his door. Noah had told him about Beth being beaten down for defending him. How she had heard some big bitch calling Daryl a rapist and tried to take her down. Noah said she got some good punches in too. He might have laughed, maybe been proud of her, had she not been pounded for defending someone like him. Took a lot not to go marching over to Douglas and demand he tell him the girls name. He was good at scaring people, most folks here were shaken by him being himself. He'd make sure Beth was safe.

Then he remembered what she said. How she could take care of herself, that she was her own hero because no one came to save her... That's what led him home. He'd have gone to the shack, hunted for a while, but not without her. Not without Beth. She made the place warm and no fire could replace what she brought to that empty place. All he had of their time out there in his make shift sanctuary was the wolf tooth. He'd tied it to some string and let it hang round his neck. Always hidden beneath his shirt yet always there, pressed against his heart. He knew she'd been right. He was a lone wolf. Howling for the moon that shined so bright yet lay so out of reach.

He should be glad he'd pushed her away. He'd been saved from having to explain himself and say goodbye to how they were. The goodbye wasn't the hard part. It was what came after. The memories, the space that person left behind. Been a while now since Merle died and yet he'd never really found anything to fill that space in his life. It was almost like someone had cut a piece out of him. He bled and it hurt and no matter how much time passed, there was no fixing that missing piece. With Beth, it was harder. Harder because he wasn't missing a small piece of himself. Hell, he was broken. She wasn't just a bed warmer or some burden he felt responsible for. Beth was part of him. She saw what he was, deep down. Knew how damaged he was. Spoke to him like he was just like her. Young and lost and hoping for the best. Without her, he couldn't find that hope. Everyone he'd looked out for in the group was getting on. They found their happy endings here. For Daryl, nothing seemed to be any easier. He wanted to hit himself. Since when did he think like this? Since when did he need someone to make him survive? There was no ignoring it. He'd changed. He wasn't the man he'd once been. Being the last man standing scared him because he was too afraid to end up alone. He'd spent his life alone, abandoned, rejected and unwanted. Enough was enough. All he wanted was Beth Greene.

Frustration forced him to aim his knife again, throwing it with such force that the door creaked and he knew it had penetrated through. Yet another defect for the unloved home he'd been assigned.

"What did that door ever do to you?"

He knew he had to be imagining her voice. Was all in his head. Just like Merle had been. Hell he was losing it. Then he heard a footsteps and the creak of wood and he turned, trying not to looked shocked. There she was. Standing there on the porch steps, leaning on the railing, bathed in moonlight. He almost swore she was just another vision, another ghost of the the girl he'd failed. Then he saw the dark bruising around her right eye, saw the cut in her lip and the fading scars on her skin. This wasn't an illusion. Beth had come to him and he wasnt ready to try and send her away. In fact, he was unable to react. Unable to find a way of making this okay. Luckily, he didn't need to say anthing. Beth knew him too well. She'd been there a while, watching him attack the door with a vehemence all too familiar to her. Going to see him had been a wild need as opposed to a wise decision, but seeing him now, alone, she couldn't help but smirk as he shifted uncomfortably. Didn't matter how bad things had been, this man was always going to be her greatest weakness and she was so glad he was.

"I got a peace offering. My way of try in' to bribe you I guess... Can we just erase the last few weeks. Please."

She sounded tired, weary, as exhausted by their seperation as he was. He nodded. Clean slate was all he needed. He hated his inability to come up with the right thing to say but she seemed content with the nod, taking a step closer, the dim light from the fire making her black eye seem darker and more painful, but Beth didn't seem to notice how intently he was staring at her. She was pulling out two jars, setting them on the table by the swinging seat. Beth didn't sit, she just stared at the jars a minute, expression clouded by something he'd never seen before. Something sad and mournful that made him wanna go over and hold her. The thought made him wince. He wasn't good at this. Playing friends after everything they'd been through, after everything they'd told each other.

"What's that?" He broke the silence, eager to bring her back from where her mind had taken her. She looked up, bright blue eyes thawing out the cold that seemed to stop existing the moment she came by. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, "Bet you never thought they'd have this."

He gave a gruff laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a half smile as he took the jars from her, taking the top off the one containing the clear liquid that smelt like home.

"Moonshine and pigs feet. Red neck heaven."

Beth seemed pleased, sitting down by the rails of the porch, her back to the house, the jar of pigs feet in her hands. He wanted to ask her in, warn her against all this time out in the cold. Snow was lingering in her blonde hair and on her jacket. He'd never forgive himself if she caught the flu and almost died again. When he looked at her, she was smiling, a soft smile, looking at him expectantly. Knowing what she was waiting for, he sat beside her, careful not to get too close. Didn't matter much, soon as he was sitting she moved toward him so their legs were pressed against each other.. He told himself she did that to keep warm, but he knew he was kidding himself. When she spoke, he could feel the words emanating through him and it made him smile to himself, "Morgan kinda stole the moonshine while he was at the doctors place. He found it in the box of confiscated stuff."

"Why'd he take it?" Daryl looked at her, saw her tracing the words on the jar label. Her knuckles were cut and bruised. Took him all the energy he had not to take her hands in his. Wouldn't help heal the wounds but sometimes the best medicine ain't what you get from a doctor.

Beth remembered her time out there. Just after her memory came back. She'd told Morgan so much about Daryl, "He remembered what I told him... About when we had moonshine."

"What'd you tell him?"

Daryl didn't sound annoyed, he was curious, and Beth knew she had to be careful. The street seemed so desolate now. So empty. She felt brave enough to say anything, but the soft pressure of his body beside hers kept her footing in reality. He couldn't know why she'd clung onto that memory so tightly. Why she'd told Morgan so much about their time out there. Sighing, she shrugged, fingers lingering on the lid of the jar on her lap, "That it was my first drink... And we burnt a shack full of it."

"What's wrong?"

Beth should have known he'd hear the melancholy tone that carried her words. Truth was, she wasn't really there, on the porch. Her mind had taken her back in time to that house, that table in the kitchen. The candles were lit and he was beside her. They were alone and content and safe. Nothing was complicated. Looking up, she squinted at the stars and smiled. It was a sad smile, forced to her lips by her need to reassure him that she was okay.

"Nothing, I just... It's like nothing changed."

He nodded, looking down at the jar in his hands, all too aware of what she meant. All to aware of how she felt. If he closed his eyes he might be back there. Sat in that coffin, watching her at the piano, feeling that same pressure against his chest as he tried to understand what it was about her that drew him closer. They fell silent, both lingering in the past. He unscrewed the top of the moonshine jar and took a swig, offering it to her. Beth took a sip, wincing at the fiery sensation that burnt her throat, eager to change the subject and stop herself thinking of what was past, "How'd the search go? For the whisperers? I heard you knew about it."

He nodded, "Didn't find nothin'... Some tyre marks. Whisperers drove the hoard here. They wanna go further out, check the border. Think we might have to find the missing group."

Beth stiffened, tense, and he felt the panic racing through her. He realised too late that she was afraid for him. Afraid he'd go out there and get killed. Her eyes strayed to his face, frustrated when he failed to meet her gaze, watching his shoes. Her voice was pleading, almost desperate, when she spoke, "Your not gonna go are you? You might..."

"No. Ain't going nowhere till Rick makes a decision."

Silence followed. He didn't need to see her face to know she was frowning. To know she was upset. The moonshine was in his hands but instead of drinking, he put it aside, suddenly aware of how she might be feeling. He'd chased that car for miles when they took her. Kept searching, kept worrying. Even when she was shot and gone, thinking of her drove him close to losing everything. Maybe Beth cared more than he realised. Hell, she'd run out and tried to help him when the wall was attacked. With a sigh, he tapped her wrist with his finger, her eyes meeting his, his voice low and gruff but reassuring, "Hey, I ain't going nowhere."

Somehow, hearing him say it helped. If Rick called for his aid, she knew too well Daryl would be there in a heartbeat, but knowing he wasn't in a hurry to run away was comforting. Her wrist was warm from where his finger had met her skin and now she almost felt peaceful. Whatever she'd meant to say to him was buried away, pushed aside as the need to talk to him trumped the need to discuss change. The wind blew harder, sending her hair across her face. As she brushed it back, her fingers met the black brushing around her eye and she winced. It wasn't so painful now but she knew it was bad. Daryl noticed her discomfort, turning so his body faced hers, nodding at her cheek, "One hell of a shiner there."

"You'd know. Your usually the one with a black eye," she laughed, biting her lip as he stared at her cheek, her eyes straying from his to the street ahead of her.

"Must be why I always look so rough," he cracked, taking another swig of moonshine. It weren't giving him much courage but it felt warm and familiar, setting fire to his insides.

"You never look bad." She murmured, keeping herself from blushing as she realised he'd heard, his eyes resting on her. Beth kept her head bowed as she pretended to fix her shoelace, legs crossed, hiding the rising flush of red that tinted her cheeks.

"Lemme see"

His hand caught her chin, tilting her head back, dark blue eyes tracing the wound. Beth almost gasped but she managed to suppress the girlish response. Daryl wanted to see the injury and acting like some stupid teenage girl would only make her seem pathetic. His fingers traced her cheekbone and her skin began to tingle, as though his fingertips were burning her. A burn she longed to feel across her spine and through her every limb. She wanted his touch to encompass her body but instead she winced and feigned discomfort. The truth was, whatever pain she should have felt was non existent. A new, yearning pain had settled in her body and she tried her hardest to ignore it.

"That hurts, Dixon," she warned him, unnerved by how close her was, his knees just meeting hers.

"Gonna tell me what happened."

Beth shifted, uneasy. He wasn't sure if her discomfort was caused by his question or his thumb brushing her cheek, so he pulled away and looked at her expectantly. She sounded breathless when she finally answered, "I figured you already knew."

"I know you got into a fight, thas bout all."

"I kinda went for her."

Beth glanced up at him, biting her lip as he frowned, not waiting for him to respond as she continued, " she started saying... Things. I dunno, it made me mad and I hit her when she called me helpless. Maggie is so pissed at me. Luckily I had Noah to back me up."

Daryl nodded, looking down at her bruised knuckles. The broken skin looked red and sore, bruises darker now, tinted purple. He knew he should let it go but he couldn't help but speak his mind, "Ran into earlier."

Beth fell silent. Praying he didn't know, but when he looked up, she knew her prayer was unanswered. He knew. Instead of meeting his penetrating gaze, she studied the snow that was falling behind him. Small spectral glimmers of white streaking through the darkness.

"Doesn't matter what people say, Beth. Don't mean shit."

"I know. I just don't like it when people think they have the right to judge someone they don't know any thin' about... You may not care Daryl, but I do. I don't want people saying that kinda shit about you."

"Not worth the shiner."

Beth smiled, "I broke her nose and almost bit her finger off. A black eye ain't too bad."

When he shook his head in mock disapproval, she noticed a cord around his neck, following the length of it till she saw what it was tied to. The wolf tooth. She smiled in spite of herself, about to comment on what she'd observed when the familiar toll of the bell rang out. Her chest tight as she realised it was his shift. Daryl cursed under his breath, rising to his feet, pulling her up with him. He might have missed turning up for duty on the wall, desperate fit a chance to evade Carly and her thousand questions, but Rick was on duty and he wasn't about to let him down.

He glanced at Beth, her perfect blue eyes gazing up into his, soft lips curved into a smile as she spoke, "okay, okay, I give in. I'll walk you to the wall."

He let out a laugh, a real laugh. That seemed to make her smile, her fingers brushing past his as she descended the porch stairs. Once again, they were forced to leave the warmth and head out into the cold. Beth began to chatter about Judith and how her insides hurt from the moonshine, her words edged with an intoxicating joy that made him smirk. Her eyes never strayed far from his, save for when she glanced up at the stars and absorbed the heavens above her. With every second spent watching her, Daryl knew that as hard as life had been, nothing would be as hard as having to leave her. Having to spend the night without her there. Beth was a ghost with a heart beat, a ray of light flickering in the darkness. Watching her leave would be to put out the hope he still had of finding something to fight for. That was when he knew that he could not let her go. Not now, not ever.

...

As they neared the wall, Beth slowed, watching him sling his crossbow over his shoulder, lingering by the stockpile that hid them from the view if the guards at the gate. He rested his back against the wood, watching her with a clouded expression. Something was on his mind but he didn't feel right to ask. Walking toward him, she rolled her eyes, snow catching on her eyelashes as she looked up.

"Daryl, what's going on."

He stared down at his feet and she suppressed the urge to take his hand and bring him to look back at her. She longed to look into those eyes. Those dark eyes that made her chest tighten and her lips curve into a smile. When he was nervous, she became uneasy. Without looking up, he spoke.

"Why'd you stab her?"

Sighing, Beth tried not to relive the moment she forced those scissors into Dawn's chest. The sound of gunfire echoed through her ears. For a second, she was gone, empty. Lost in the past. Then, she heard him shift, his eyes on her, and she was back in the present. Alive. With a shrug, she murmured, "doesn't matter. Was stupid. I wasn't thinking."

"Nah, that's not you. Tell me."

"I was angry. At her. At them. Dawn used to treat me like I was weak... Then she found out I wasn't and she used me. Like I was there to do her dirty work. She didn't even stop Gorman from..." Her skin burnt where he had held her. Where his hands had rested. Her throat felt dry and somehow, the night seemed colder. She shivered, pulling her jacket closer. He noticed and tried not to hit something. Guilt coursed through him and Beth noticed that anger, unnerved when he spoke.

"Should have killed every last one..."

Reaching forward, she took his hand and scowled, gripping his fingers, "No. No, I dealt with him. The one who tried to... I killed him. I... I killed him and the others."

He noticed her hollow voice and slight shiver that traveled through her hand, bending down so he could meet her eyes, concerned, "You 'k?"

"Yeah. I just never said it out loud before. I killed someone."

He nodded. Been a long time since killing had been something's he felt bad about but he remembered that initial shock, the nausea, the guilt. He couldn't bear to know she felt that way about men who would have hurt her for their own fun. Daryl wanted to reassure her but she was staring into space, her voice small and empty, "I killed the people on the bridge. Left one for the walkers because he tried to do the same thing as Gorman... I used my bare hands..."

"M'sorry... Shouldn't have let you get taken in the first place..."

That brought her back. She glared at him, her hand gripping his tighter than he expected, heat coursing through her palm, "Daryl. Stop. I'm... I'm happy, in a way, that things worked out the way they did."

He didn't look convinced and she smiled softly, all too aware of how he was looking at her.

"If I hadn't got taken, Morgan would never be here. He needed someone. Rebecca needed to be saved. So did Ben. Things worked out for the best."

"Wasn't easy..." He wanted to tell her how he'd lost his way when she died. How much she meant to him. How dark the days had been when she was gone... But Beth knew. Why else would she look at him that way. Her voice was calm, soothing, her hand slipping out from his.

"I know... But maybe if I hadn't been gone so long, we wouldn't be the way we are now."

Nervously, he asked, "And how are we?"

She smiled, tempted to speak her mind, but the evening had been too perfect and she wasn't willing to let it slip away because of her wayward feelings. He watched her bite her lip, nervous she might answer him, although he half wished she would say it. Save him from another night of tossing and turning as he questioned everything he felt. When she opened her mouth to answer, he almost flinched. Afraid yet relieved.

"Were Good."

Maybe he should have said something. Just let her hear it and face what came next. Be a man and take that next step. Reason he didn't wasn't because he was scared. Not anymore. The reason he kept silent was because he knew he wasn't what she needed. He wasn't good enough. Too damaged. Too broken. He'd break her if he let her get too close. Looking at her there, resting against the porch, watching the snow fall, blue eyes shining in the firelight, was almost painful. He poked the fire with an arrow, wondering how he'd ever get over this. This need for everything she was. To have her there, safe, by his side. He'd protect her, whether she was his or not, but he wanted her there to protect him. From being alone, from forgetting he'd escaped the past he regretted so much. His thoughts faded as the bell tolled and he started to move, held back by her voice, uneasy and nervous.

"You said I gotta remind you of how you escaped the bad."

He nodded, glancing at her. She was pale, biting her lip hard.

"I need... I need you to remind me... That I did this."

Taking hold of his shirt, she reached up and pressed her lips to his, the silence deafening as the world ceased to exist. Her hands rested near his heart, feeling it pulsate, her lips soft against his. For a moment, she feared he might pull away, but he seemed to recover from the shock, returning with a force that almost tipped her back. He tasted like moonshine. That was how she'd recover from this. When the sun rose up and she'd start the first day of a life changed by the fact that she had kissed Daryl Dixon. If he pushed her away, if he closed her out and went back to building a wall between himself and the rest of the world, she'd blame the moonshine. She might even pretend it never happened. The idea of being rejected didn't worry her. Beth wouldn't blame him if he didn't want her. What scared her was knowing she might have destroyed everything they ever had. That this might have been the last time they spent time together. Being what they'd always been. Friends. If Daryl left again, that final support beam might break and she might lose herself to the past. To all the loss and pain and fear. She was strong but no one made it alone. No one should be alone. She didn't know if she was ready to be severed from him again but his hand on the small of her back told her she wasn't imagining anything. He was tense, of course he was, but she felt his fingers press against her back and she wished it wasn't winter, wished she wasn't wearing a jacket that kept her from feeling his skin against hers.

Daryl didn't know how it had happened but he forgot every barrier he'd ever believed lay between them, deepening the kiss, her soft lips caressing his in a way that kindled the fire burning inside of him. Beth smiled against his lips, a finger tracing his jaw as he lifted her up, never breaking the kiss. It wasn't about finding the right time or the right place. It wasn't even about whether she understood what it was that she felt or whether he understood what she needed. Beth had to find the courage to love him, and in that moment, that brief flickering second where she wandered across the line drawn between them, she knew that she was finally strong enough. Finally, she was strong enough to love someone. It didn't matter that he was damaged, that he had a whole world of problems, that he didn't always say the right words or smile at the right moments. She loved him. When you love someone, you don't overlook the broken parts. She didn't want him to think he needed to be anything else. It's not love if you expect the person to change for you. You gotta love them for who they are now, not what they might be. In Daryl, she didn't see a killer or a kid who needed saving. She saw herself, alone and broken by the past, trying to make a fresh start. Together, maybe they could make it. Build a future on a broken past. Walk away from everything that ever hurt them. When a call for Daryl came from the gate, they jumped apart. He turned to he gate, a goofy smile playing across his lips that made her suppress a laugh. He looked so young, so genuinely carefree. She didn't wait for him to turn back to her, darting away, hurrying into the shadows. Beth shivered, the cold biting at her skin, though her lips were still warm. Still burning. She smiled to herself, secretly knowing too well the fiery tingle wasn't from the moonshine.


End file.
